Doors of Fire
by Patchyman
Summary: WW2/Redwall story. Mossflower is brutilized under the rule of a group known as the Faction, but the time for retribution has come. Samuel Melton, a young squirrel part of an elite unit known as sky-jumpers, take the first step in Mossflower's salvation
1. Chapter 1  Broken Resistence

Hey everyone, Patchy here again. This one started a little while ago, but hasn't really taken off for me until recently. I've been a huge World War 2 history fan since I was almost 12 years old, and love incorporating it in my stories. I know there are already a few WW2/Redwall fanfics out there, but I want to emphasize that I am in no way stealing any ideas or IP. This is just my own take on it.

Anyway, enjoy! And as always, please please PLEASE read and review.

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Rain fell in gray sheets from the night sky as thunder rumbled like a monster clearing his throat. Lightning, hidden by the thick clouds hanging overhead, allowed just enough illumination to reveal the small dirt path running through a thick grove of thin, spiny trees that had long shed their leaves since the stormy December night.

A nesting woodpecker twittered gloomily as he sat in his barren nest, watching the path below in hopes of spotting a scrap of food for his empty stomach. He sat for a while before resigning himself to another night of hunger and fruitless hope. Chirping one last saddened note, he retreated back into his shamble of a home.

Perhaps if the sparrow had stayed for just a few more minutes, he would have seen the rickety bicycle twisting and skidding its way along the mud-ridden path; now slick as motor oil. And if he had paid even _more _attention, he would have noticed the apple that popped out of a basket affixed to the bike's rear wheel, landing in a puddle with a splash.

The raccoon, who was trying his best to keep the rusty heap on the treacherous path, didn't notice his suddenly displaced cargo. All he could do was lean into the harsh, biting wind as it drove rain into his already sodden body. The hood on his moth-bitten wool cloak flew back, allowing the rain to soak the one dry place on his aching and sleep-deprived body.

As he rode the trees gradually began to thin out and the path became firmer under his wheels. Soon he was riding along a bend in the road, following a long-since crumbled stone wall alongside. At the top of a gently sloping hill and surrounded on three sides by forest sat a tiny cottage, gold light flickering through the two windows.

He smiled to himself. _Come on, _he thought encouragingly, _just a little more, and you'll be there!_

Soon enough, he was. Shaking with cold and panting for breath he detached the small basket and rushed to the door, huddling under the small alcove while knocking on the door in a rhythmic pattern, two sets of fast-paced taps, followed by three loud thumps.

He heard the sounds of conversation and squeals of joy as someone walked to the door. Finally, after multiple clicks and clacks, it opened.

The squirrel who answered was young, hardly even an adult, whose reddish-brown fur gleamed in the dull candle light. Her green eyes lit up at the sight of the raccoon. "Oh, Bernard! I'm so glad to see you! Please, come inside. Are you alright? Were you delayed at all? Did you get the…"

Bernard smiled and held a finger to her lips as he stepped inside and hung his dripping-wet coat on a nearby peg. "Don't you fret, Penny my love. Everything's fine. Just a little wet, is all."

"Bernard, dear! It's so good to see you!" The raccoon looked away from Penny and towards the mouse sitting at the dinner table. She was old, her near completely silver-gray fur leaving no doubt about that. But her eyes bore a youthful and vibrant shimmer, one that seemed to emanate confidence and assuredness.

"Ah, Mathilde, it's good to see your face!" The raccoon said, placing his basket on the table before sitting down across from her. She smiled and held one of his paws in both of hers. "Tell me, dear, how was the trip?"

Bernard glanced at the basket. "Fine. Wonderful, as a matter of fact. The local baker gave me two loaves of his honey wheat bread, one of his special blends," he said, passing a discreet wink between the both of them.

Mathilde laughed and stood, pouring them all a cup of steaming hot tea. "Don't worry, my friend, Charles isn't here. He left this morning to check on the house in Dieppe, he'll be back in about a week."

Bernard grunted as he took a sip of the tea. "Good, I was never too fond of that hamster. Squinty little…"

Penny cast him a reprimanding glance. "Bernard, please! Charles is a good friend. He just needed to…prioritize his friendships. I promise you, everything is fine."

The raccoon sighed as he reached into the basket and retrieved a loaf of bread wrapped in wax paper. "I suppose," he said, starting to undo the twine knotted around the top. "But there was just something about it. I'm sure it's just me being paranoid, though."

He slit the paper with a large knife which was hidden in his boot, starting to carefully cut into the bread. Halfway down on the top, and then flipping it over and doing the same to the bottom. After popping a small chunk of the fresh bread into his mouth, he peeled the two halves apart.

A small square of paper fell neatly onto the table. He snatched it up, quickly unfolding the parchment. He scanned the paper briefly, his face suddenly lighting up. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" He exclaimed, leaping up from the table and hopping from one paw to the other. "Yes! I knew it! It's here!"

The mouse was perplexed. Setting her tea down, she swiped the paper from his paw, staring at him worriedly for a moment before reading the paper. Suddenly she was up and dancing as well, whooping and hollering with joy. "It's here! It's here!" She shouted, linking arms with the raccoon and dancing giddily.

Penny was still out of the loop. "Would one of you kindly explain to me what is so…"

Bernard knelt in front of the chair and put both his paws on her shoulders. "The allies are coming, my love! They're sending a group of paratroopers, next week! They're going to destroy the enemy headquarters and secure a landing point! They're going to save us!"

Her eyes widened, and then she leapt up from the chair and joined the other two. "We're going to win! We're going to win! We're going to win!"

Suddenly, the coded knock on the door brought all their jubilation to a halt. All three stood in paralyzed silence until a high-pitched, sing-song voice warbled through from outside. "Mathilde, Penny, it's me, Charles! I forgot my good suit here when I left this morning, can I come in for a moment?"

Bernard glanced at Mathilde, who nodded and hurried to fold the message and slip in into her pocket. The raccoon's paw was on the doorknob when Penny's hushed whisper caught his attention. "Bernard," she hissed, paws trembling. "Charles doesn't own a suit."

He had just enough time to leap back before the door was kicked open. The stampeding of feet was all the three could hear as a dozen soldiers rushed inside screaming and brandishing their weapons. Bernard's paw shot towards his boot, but a rifle butt smashed him across the jaw before he could hardly move. Stars flashed across his eyes as pain lanced through his head. Something tricked out of his mouth, blood or saliva he didn't know.

Bernard was hardly conscious as the soldiers hauled him to his feet and threw him against a wall with the other two, who were somewhat battered but not seriously hurt.

Most of the soldiers were foxes, with a few shorter lizards dotting the ranks. Their uniforms were as gray as the night sky outside, and each rifle and submachine gun leveled at the three glistened in the dull candlelight. For a moment, the only sound was the pounding of rain outside and the occasional creak from the aging house.

Suddenly, the sound of slow footsteps echoed through the small house. A few soldiers shifted positions quickly as someone strolled through the ranks, stopping in front of the three terrified souls.

He was a fox; they could at least make out that much. But the normally copper-colored fur was a stone gray, meticulously combed and cut with a single black stripe running down the center of his head between two striking emerald-green eyes. His pressed and creased uniform was black as pitch, except for the silver buttons and medals glinting on his lapel. His polished black leather boots clicked as he tapped a foot, surveying his victims with a playfully vicious smile.

"Well well, what have we here?" He said, pulling off the black leather gloves covering his paws and stuffing them in a pocket. "An ancient mouse, a squirrel too young to ride a horse, and an over-eager raccoon stupid enough to reach for a weapon while surrounded by armed soldiers." He shook his head in mock shame. "The resistance must be on their last dregs if this is all they could drum up."

Mathilde feigned terror and shock, trying to repress the burning, roiling hatred tearing at the inside of her chest. "P…please, we d-don't know about the r-r-resistance. We're j-just simple farmers, trying t-to…"

The fox cackled. "Farmers? Is that all? Well then in that case, I'm sorry for intruding on your home. My soldiers will kindly leave now." He spat on the floor. "Don't waste my time, scum. I know everything, thanks to your friend here." He beckoned with a paw, and Charles was brought forward by two soldiers. His previously shining tan fur was streaked with dirt and drying blood; and his stubby limbs trembled around the enormous trunk of a body. His normally joyous and clever blue eyes were filled with terror and shame. "Penny, please forgive me!" He sobbed. "I had no choice! They were going to…"

The three prisoners jumped in shock as Charles was dealt a swift blow across the side of his face. The fox officer glanced at his paw briefly and sighed. "Another broken claw. I suppose I should wear gloves when such actions are required. Oh well, no matter. Guards, search those three and take that sniveling wretch outside until I deal with him."

Penny's face was twisted with anger as they were all hauled to their feet. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she somehow managed to speak clearly through her clenched teeth. "You monster! You filthy, disgusting, violent beast! You…"

The fox clamped a paw across her mouth and smiled maliciously. "Compliments will get you nowhere, my dear. Now be a good little squirrel and…"

Before he could react she clamped down on his paw with vice-like power. He howled, striking her with his free paw until she fell to the ground, dazed. Above Bernard's shouts of vengeance and Mathilde's wailing cries, the fox roared his fury. "Insolent, disgusting creature!" He fumbled at the holster on his belt, fingers twitching in blind rage. "I will show you the meaning of pain, whelp!"

A soldier shouted above the noise just as the fox chambered a round into the pistol. "Commander, I have found something!"

The officer took a few short breaths before stuffing the weapon back in its sheath and turning to the soldier. "What is it, dunce?"

The short, skinny ferret was obviously nervous as he held out the slip of paper. "It was in the mouse's pocket, Commander."

Snatching it from his subordinate's paw, the fox read only a few lines before a broad, toothy grin split his face. "Oh, this is…this is…excellent! Fabulous!" He howled insane laughter again, his face contorting into a strange grimacing smile, with one eye squinted shut while the other bulged nearly out of its socket. Regaining his composure shortly after noticing the slightly confused looks from his soldiers, he folded the paper and placed it into his chest pocket. "Thank you, my friends," he sneered at the three captives, "you have not only just secured my position as a commanding General in the Faction, but the destruction of any enemy forces operating within the next ten weeks. I'm sure your fellow prisoners in the camp will be overjoyed at the news, since that is where you are destined next." He waved a paw to the guards. "Take them away."

Bernard couldn't stop himself. The blind wrath burning behind his eyes exploded as he charged towards the fox's turned back, hand swiping the knife from a nearby soldier's belt with a deftness gained from years of experience. A roar erupted from his throat as the blade gleamed, extended out in front of his body.

This time the fox didn't fumble. The single shot sounded like a cannon in the enclosed space and flashed like lightning. A gentle wisp of smoke rose towards the ceiling as the brass casing tinkled to the floor. The smell of burnt powder and smoke quickly filled the tiny space.

Bernard stopped in his tracks. His pawtrembled, and the knife fell to the floor with a clatter. The raccoon's astonished eyes fell slowly to his chest, where a single rosebud of red began to blossom on the front of his shirt. He shakily went to a knee, starting to gasp for air. Suddenly, he groaned and fell as his breath came in short, raggedy gasps.

Penny, who had shut her eyes and turned her head away from the blast, suddenly screamed and rushed on all fours to Bernard's side. "No, no, no! Please Bernard, don't…" She collapsed into shaking sobs, clutching onto her friend like a piece of driftwood in a mighty storm.

A paw caressed her cheek. She looked into his eyes as he smiled and managed a few words. "I love you, Penny." he whispered before a final sigh escaped him, and the paw fell slowly to his chest.

Penny wailed, resting her head on his shoulder. Her body shook uncontrollably as she sobbed and gasped. Suddenly, she stopped and looked at the fox standing with a satisfied look on his face. A low growl erupted into a roar as she leapt towards him only to be stopped by a furious barrage of fists and rifle butts.

Mathilde could only sit in a state of numb distress as they were both hauled away, Penny screaming and cursing as they were dragged into the rain. Thoughts snapped through her mind like gunfire, sporadic and sharp. A single tear rolled down her cheek as they were shoved aboard a large truck, which rumbled and shook as it pulled away into the night.

The fox, still inside the cottage, grinned maliciously at the sight. He looked down at the floor and knelt, picking up the small brass shell and examining it between two fingers. With a grunt of satisfaction, he placed it in a secret pocket on the inside of his jacket. The pocket clinked and jingled with numerous other casings as he did.

He fished the leather gloves out of his pocket and slipped them back on over his paws. Turning towards the table, he selected a low-burning candle and strolled leisurely to the small bookshelf. His fingers danced over the titles, occasionally selecting one and throwing on the floor in a pile. When a clump of ten or so books had accumulated, he stepped back and let the candle slip from his paw.

He grinned as the flame kicked into life, quickly beginning to devour the pile of books and bookshelf. "Oops, silly Me." he guffawed, strolling out of the cottage as the flames grew.


	2. Chapter 2 Becker

The early morning sky was still dark and filled with forebodingly gray clouds as a short column of trucks rolled down a mud-spattered road. Huge banks of trees jutted into the sky on either side of the path, broken only occasionally by a pile of rocks or road sign. The hulking, olive-green transport vehicles rumbled and bumped their way down the rough path, their engines growling and smoke occasionally spouting from the exhaust pipes.

They turned down another path, which lead out of the trees and towards a large sign hanging in between two large poles. The simple wood and metal sign read, painted in stark block letters, "Fort Pinewillow". As the vehicles rumbled along, they passed two guard towers where they were watched by soldiers manning machine-guns and rifle stations.

Rows of barracks flashed past one of the driver's windows as they pressed on. Buildings were laid out in a neat, simple fashion, only distinguishable by the signs hung above the door. Barrack unit one, barrack unit two, Post Exchange, Company office, Officer's quarters; the list went on as the trucks drove past.

With one last turn, the vehicles hissed to a stop. In mere seconds, groups of smartly-dressed officers were yelling and shoving as dozens of recruits jumped from the backs of the trucks, panting and towing heavy duffel bags. The officers herded them onto a large empty plot of asphalt, organizing them into an orderly square formation with sharp tongues and flattening looks.

One of the terrified recruits was a young squirrel, who stood almost in the very center of one of the twelve by twelve formations. His bright green, almond-shaped eyes danced nervously in their sockets as officers got the last messy beings in order. He trembled in his light-brown fur, which, for most squirrels would be a darker or even reddish hue, was soaked with rain. All of them remained in their civilian clothes, which mostly consisted of T-shirts and jeans being as it had been sunny and warm from where they departed.

A gravelly, tough voice barked out from behind them. "Eyes front, stand at attention for the Colonel! Any of you so much thinks of moving, you'll be wishing you had fallen off the trucks!"

The squirrel tried to shuffle into a position that he thought looked the most soldierly. Arms locked straight at his side, head tilted up and standing perfectly straight. His bushy tail was still quivering, though, as the sound of bootsteps on the wet asphalt met his ears. His eyes wandered slightly, catching their first sight of the Colonel.

He was a brawny, slick-furred otter. His perfectly-shined leather boots thudded each time he put a foot down, and the glittering rows of medals and gold bars on his chest clicked slightly. He stared straight ahead, walking in front of the first formation, and then stopped and turned sharply to face all three blocks. The polished metal insignia on his officer's hat glittered even in the dull light, along with the leather holster on his belt and Colonel tab resting on his lapel. Two sharp green eyes surveyed the recruits, seeming to calculate each one at a single glance. The squirrel could almost feel them sweep over his comparatively thin frame.

The otter closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, holding it for a few moments before looking back at the miserable creatures in front of him. "My name is Colonel Weatherby, and you are recruits. Nothing more, nothing less. You are not individuals, you are not special, and you are not equals. Right now every single one of you is the same unorganized, distasteful slop.

"You have come here for one reason and one reason only: To train. To train so you can become soldiers and defend our freedom from tyranny. And not only will you become soldiers, you will become Skyjumpers, one of the most ingeniously designed and hardest pressed soldiers in our entire force. You have all volunteered for this duty, so you can bring honor to yourselves and defeat the enemies that threaten peace.

"Your training will push you to the very edge of death itself. Nothing you have ever done could have prepared for you what is to come. You will hurt, you will be hungry, you will be tired, you will want to quit. And if you do, I recommend you do so now, because I've got no room in my troop for cowards."

He glanced over the formations one more time, not failing to notice the slight chatter of teeth and shaking limbs. Letting one corner of his mouth twitch in semblance of a smile, he continued, strolling back and forth with calculated steps. "The reason for training is this: Skyjumpers are to be the first unit into a fight. They are the tip of the spear. You will learn not only how to fight, but to take orders, give them, lead, follow, and act on your own if necessary.

"You will be deployed like no other unit in war. Towed by two birds, you will be placed in a metal pod along with thirty-six other soldiers. Once over the target area, you will jump with a parachute strapped to your back. This tactic has never before been deployed in a large-scale conflict. It is guaranteed to shock and surprise the enemy, possibly enough to disrupt his own combat operations."

Suddenly he stopped pacing, his piercing eyes seeming to lock onto each of the creatures for an eternity. "This kind of warfare has never been practiced on a large scale before. You are the very first of your kind, the very first Skyjumpers. It is an honor and privilege for those of you who pass the training will never forget."

He stopped speaking and surveyed the now-terrified creatures for just a moment before turning to a group of rough-looking officers. "Sergeants, you are released to your respective platoons. Make sure they receive their supplies and bunks. Dismissed."

A split second after the last syllable left Weatherby's mouth, the drill instructors were stomping towards the group clustered before them, screaming and hauling unfortunate creatures by the scruff of their necks. "Move, you sniveling lot!" A gray and black-hued ferret roared, kicking the hindquarters of a mouse that tripped and fell. "Move your hide, boot!" He hissed, marching alongside the stampede of terrified beasts.

They were herded along a cement path, just wide enough for five of them to walk along side each other, pressed tightly shoulder-to-shoulder. The squirrel was lucky enough to be in the center of one of these lines as he stumbled along, eyes darting back and forth as fear gripped him. All around him there was nothing but the dank tinge of sweat and morning dew, the screaming and piercing calls of the officers, and the thud of feet over the ground.

They were forced to turn left by the sergeants, directed towards a large, plain sheet-metal building sticking out on the parade ground like a silver chunk beaten into a log. The entire group was pushed and shoved towards the two doors, and into the building.

The continuous yelling mingled with the sounds of equipment; rustling of cloth, the thud of boots on the cement floor, and clatter of steel helmets clinking together. The squirrel tried to stay in line as best he could as the ranks thinned to just one creature, narrowing to run past a long line of tables.

A grizzled, dark-eyed mouse looked up from the clipboard sitting on the desk in front of him. "Name, date of birth, species, and religion."

The squirrel managed to yell above the din, not failing to notice the obvious crack in his voice. "Samuel Melton, September twenty-nine, squirrel, protestant."

After scribbling with his pen, the mouse took a cursory glance at Samuel, seeming to size him up. Then he reached under the desk and produced a folded set of olive-drab clothing. Woolen pants, jacket, two pairs of socks, undershirt, and wool cap. "Take these and find somewhere to change, and then go to the next set of tables. Next!"

Samuel felt himself pushed along and hurriedly melted into a corner, fumbling to slip on the pants and jacket. Throwing his previous attire in the bag, he managed to fall back into line.

This time, a fox beckoned with a paw. "Come awn, come awn, hand over your civvies," he drawled, taking the bag from Samuel's shaking paw. "Alright, boot size."

"Ten, sir."

The fox grinned slightly as he handed a pair of black boots to Samuel. "Save the 'sir' stuff for the officers, buddy. I'm just enlisted. Now, tuck the bottoms of those pants into the tops of the boots, but give it some room. Tie 'em nice and tight now. Yeah, that'll do. Alright, move along, bushy."

Samuel couldn't help but admire the thick black canvas boots. He watched them as he strode towards the next aisle, smiling slightly. _I bet these make me look like a soldier!_

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of equipment and yelling creatures. The recruits were funneled past the stations so quickly many of them were left clutching gear they didn't remember receiving.

As the last few trickled out from the supply building, each clutching a large duffel bag filled with their kit, the entire group was hustled to a cluster of simple-looking buildings, which almost resembled small airplane hangars. Above each one the block-letter sign sent a small shiver of fear down each recruit's back.

BARRACK 1, BARRACK 2, BARRACK 3, BARRACK 4…

The list went on for another eight buildings. Samuel was split into the group destined for barrack room 8, the same slate-gray-colored building as all the others. They stumbled inside, burdened under the heavy duffel bags.

Samuel cast a quick glance over the room. Two aisles of identical double-bunk beds ran down each wall, ten on each side. There were only four windows total, which could hardly illuminate the entire room, which stretched for seventy feet lengthwise and forty in width.

They filed down the center, each one finding a bunk with a near paper-thin mattress, rough cotton pillow, and one blanket, folded into a sharp rectangle. Samuel found an empty bottom bunk, about halfway down. Gratefully tossing the heavy bag onto the mattress, he absentmindedly began rifling through the contents.

One bar of soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, thick winter gloves, a dark green scarf, one extra pair of pants and shirt, deodorant spray, and his helmet. These were all of his worldly possessions now, all that he could call his own.

Samuel picked up the heavy steel helmet and studied it. It almost looked like a bowl, just big enough to cover his head to above the eyes. The freshly painted steel was dark olive in color, like most of his equipment.

Suddenly, the bunk overhead rattled as somebeast threw their own bag on the remaining bed. Samuel looked up from his inspection to see an otter rummaging through his own things. He looked up and smiled. "Sorry, mate, didn't see you there. Don't mind if I take this bunk, do ya?"

Samuel shook his head, extending a paw. "Not a bit. Samuel Melton."

The otter shook his paw, failing to notice the wince that crossed Samuel's face at the otter's strength. "Nice to meet ye, Samuel. The name's Joseph Collins, one and only army otter in me entire family." He winked at Samuel. "My old pa wasn't too happy about it, let me tell you. Said that I should go to the navy like a normal otter, do like he did. 'Course, I ain't one to just blindly follow that old geezer."

Samuel couldn't help but like Joseph right away. "Same with my folks. Well, they just didn't want me to go at all. My mom was crying when the bus came." His eyes faded slightly as the memory slipped back. "My dad had this look on his face, like he would never see me again."

Joseph gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder, bringing him back to the present. "Come on now, none o' that. We'll be fine. Hey, I've got a deal for you. How about we stick together, help each other out a bit? Should make training a bit easier to get through, eh?"

Samuel nodded, smiling. "Thanks, sounds like a deal."

The barracks door suddenly flew open, banging like a gunshot as it slammed into the sheet-metal wall. Everybeast in the room jumped, turning to look at the new arrival.

He was the toughest, most cower-inducing stoat Samuel had ever seen. His short, rough-looking fur was as gray as the clouds outside, except for a few patches of coal black on his neck and head. His fresh-pressed uniform was clean, but faded with use and time. The thud of his boots on the cement floor echoed throughout the room, each step like the toll of a funeral bell.

Every single creature was silent as he strode down the center of the barracks, not even bothering to look at the terrified beasts shaking on each side. He stopped at the front of the room and folded his hands behind him.

"So, this is what they give me?" He growled with a voice like crushed gravel. "These sorry, worthless excuses for trainees are all they could come up with?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Never mind, I'll get them into shape one way or another."

All of the sudden, he seemed to notice the forty or so terrified creatures staring at him like prey does the predator. "What in the hell are you staring at, you scum!" He yelled, storming down the center aisle. "When you are in the presence of an officer, you will stand at the position of attention!" He continued screaming as the shaking recruits attempted to shuffle into a position they thought resembled attention. The stoat suddenly stopped near the end of the room, staring down a quivering fox. "You call that attention, you idiot?" He grabbed the unfortunate fox and forced him to stand in the center of the aisle, pointing out the misjudged posture. "Feet together, pointed away at a forty-five degree angle, chest out, chin up, eyes front!" The stoat shoved the fox into position. Finally, he nodded. "That's better. Now, you'll have the honor of leading the platoon in PT. On your faces, worms. Now!"

Samuel's throat was tight as he dropped to the dusty floor along with the rest, starting the push-ups to the cadence. "One drill sergeant, two drill sergeant, three drill sergeant, four drill sergeant…"

The stoat marched back and forth, yelling over their strained voices. "You are no longer the property of your own devices, you are mine! Every move you make will be under orders, and any infractions will be dealt with swiftly and efficiently. Every word out of your mouth will be followed with 'sir', 'sergeant', or 'drill sergeant'. Is that much clear?"

A chorus of gasping, breath-deprived voices called back. "Yes, sir!"

The stoat continued his rant. "For those of you who pass this training, you will become the most elite fighting force ever commissioned for this war! If you provide anything less than excellence, you can expect to be thrown out on your sorry ass before you know what's happening!"

He suddenly hauled the fox, who by now was dripping sweat and shaking with pain, to his feet. The remaining creatures followed his lead. The stoat eyed them all contemptuously. "I am Sergeant Becker, and for the next nine weeks, you are mine. Get your shit squared away and assemble on the parade ground in twenty minutes. Dismissed."


	3. Chapter 3 Cold Steel, Fresh Air

Hey everyone, chapter three is up! This one is my personal favorite, as I'm a weapons enthusiast of World War 2 and...well, pretty much a weapons enthusiast period. So this little chunk was very fun to write. And as for the training later on, I've obviously never jumped out of an airplane, so things may be kind of weird. I just tried to think about what it might feel like, and hopefully it translated well. And as always...

Read and review! Read and review! READ AND REVIEW! Do it, or Becker'll find you. And trust me, he is NOT a forgiving beast.

Redwall is obviously the property of Brian Jacques (Rest in peace, sir. You will be deeply missed) but Samuel Melton, Becker, Joseph, the Skyjumpers, etc. are mine.

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Samuel's nine weeks of hell soon became routine. At least an hour of physical training in the morning, which usually left him gasping for breath and nursing some sort of excruciating pain. Joseph faired a bit better, but he wasn't the most adept runner, which quickly gave Sergeant Becker reason to torment him. He would run alongside the otter, screaming in his ear to hurry up or stop flopping his arms around like a damned eel.

After the first week, their training began to change. Combative drills were introduced, fighting with a rifle mock-up or learning to use a bayonet. Samuel found himself almost enjoying the training, finally getting his hands on a weapon. But the first real part of training began three weeks in, when they were ushered to the supply room once again directly after their morning routine.

Sergeant Becker stood in front of a row of wooden crates, eyeing all the creatures with the usual sense of distaste. But Samuel had noticed that the stoat's methods of teaching had begun to change from blatant insults and screaming, to simple, yet stern instructions and the occasional tongue-lashing to get them in place.

When everybeast was assembled properly, Becker placed a paw on one of the crates, which were about four feet in length and half that in width. "Listen up," he said. "Today, things get serious. Inside these crates are the means to ensure your continued existence on the battlefield."

He flipped the top, letting the wooden lid clatter to the floor. After throwing some straw out of the crate, he picked something up and turned around. Samuel's eyes slowly widened. The rifle was beautiful, from its cherry-wood stock to the perfectly blued steel barrel; the weapon seemed to be the essence of deadly, yet beautiful craftsmanship.

Becker hefted the rifle and drew the bolt assembly to the rear with a sharp _clack! _"This," he began. "Is the latest and greatest piece of weaponry we possess in our armory. It is a semi-automatic, clip-fed weapon that holds eight rounds when fully loaded. It propels a thirty caliber projectile at roughly two thousand and eight hundred feet per second. The round will carry an effective range of eight hundred meters and will knock down anything not covered in three-quarters of an inch of plate armor. This is the M-1 Garand rifle, ladies and gentlebeasts."

Samuel was involuntarily grinning. Becker must have noticed, because he tossed the weapon to him, trying to hide a grin as the squirrel caught the weapon clumsily. Samuel ran a paw over the wood stock, slightly surprised at the weight. It was at least twelve pounds, if not more.

Becker stepped aside and folded his arms. "Right, everybeast line up and pick up your rifle. This won't be the only weapon you train with, but as of now everyone here is a riflebeast. You'll learn to hit a target at long range, and accurately as well. Some of you won't be as adept as others, and that's why we have this."

He flipped open the next crate and retrieved a new weapon, a blocky-looking hunk of steel and wood, with a long stick-like magazine and pistol grip. "The Thompson submachine gun. Forty-five caliber cartridge, with an automatic rate of fire somewhere around eight hundred rounds a minute. You may not hit the enemy at long range, but nothing can beat this little wonder in close-quarters." He put it back in the case, watching as the last of the rifles were passed out.

Soon afterward the entire group was herded out the door and ordered to run. Samuel found himself off-balance with the heavy rifle at first, but quickly found his pace. They ran for almost an hour, their new weapons slowing them down some.

They arrived, panting and sweating profusely, at a large open field. Samuel squinted towards the other end of the field, where rows of torso-sized targets stood on wooden mounts.

Joseph stood next to his squirrel friend, still panting and wiping a paw across his forehead. "Looks like a pretty fair distance, eh mate?"

Samuel nodded. "Yeah, it is. What do you think it is, maybe two hundred yards?"

Suddenly, Sergeant Becker was standing right behind him. Samuel jumped, but stayed at attention as the stoat grinned devilishly. "You're right on the money, Private Melton, two hundred yards exactly. Since you seem to be so adept at judging distance, you'll demonstrate the use of the weapons system first. Any objections?"

Samuel kept his gaze above Becker's head as he shouted a response. "No, sir! None at all, sir!"

Just a few moments later, Samuel was lying prone on the grass, his rifle resting before him. Becker was standing, addressing the rest of the platoon. "Private Melton will now commence demonstrating the operation of the M-1 Garand rifle. The first step is to place the eight-round clip inside the magazine compartment."

Samuel followed his cues, placing the small metal container holding the eight cartridges inside the weapon, from the open bolt residing at the top of the rifle. He pushed the clip into the chamber until he felt a small click and held it in place.

"Next," Becker continued. "Private Melton will pull his fingers off the clip, releasing the bolt and chambering a round."

Samuel did so, making sure to release his fingers quickly as the bolt slammed forward with a _clack! _

"The weapon is now loaded. Private Melton, you are clear to fire at targets downrange."

Samuel flicked off the safety catch near his finger. "Yes, sir!"

The first shot sounded like the snap of a dry hickory branch, amplified ten times. Samuel blinked as the weapon was driven into his shoulder with a punch. With his ears still ringing, he readjusted the stock deeper into the pocket of his shoulder and continued firing.

Each shot broadened the grin on his face. He could tell, without even looking at the targets, that the bullets were going exactly where he wanted them to. It felt instinctive, like Samuel had done this before. The snap and recoil of the weapon soon became as natural as breathing. Smoke drifted off the barrel, wafting gently into his face. He found the odor strangely enjoyable.

The last round exited the barrel with the usual crack, and then the clip was ejected along with the last casing with a noticeable _ping! _Shaking his head to clear the ringing, he clicked the safety switch back on and shouted. "Weapon clear and safe, sir!"

Becker lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes and chuckled. "Well, well. It looks like we have a natural riflebeast on our hands here!"

He handed the binoculars to Samuel, who found the target he had been shooting at. His bullets had all impacted in the center of the paper, within a group no bigger than his fist. Another smile came across his face.

He stood, nodding as the other beasts congratulated him. Joseph gave him a hearty clap on the back, almost sending him sprawling. "Nice job, mate." He whispered.

Becker picked up a steel box containing ammunition and opened the lid. "Right, let's see what the rest of you can do. Step up, ladies!"

An hour later, all the creatures were sitting near the firing line, rubbing whining ears and sore shoulders. A mouse also had a black eye, after the empty clip had ejected and hit him in the face. "Jeez, this smarts."

Joseph couldn't resist a good-natured ribbing. "Maybe if yore face wasn't so fat ye wouldn't 'ave been in the way!"

All the other creatures laughed as the mouse's face reddened. "Yeah, well…"

A whistle from Sergeant Becker caught their attention. They immediately noticed the other crates standing next to him. "Oh, you thought we were done?" He laughed, throwing his head back. "Far from it, boys. We've still got the rest of the day to burn. Or are you telling me you'd rather be back in the barracks doing PT?"

A sharp chorus of "No, sir!" rang through the air. Becker smiled. "Well then, up on your paws."

They spent the rest of the day learning how to wield every weapon they might ever encounter on the battlefield. From the smaller Thompson submachine gun to the forty-five caliber 1911 handgun to the massive Browning Automatic Rifle, or BAR, they were soon becoming experts in the area of weaponry.

Samuel quickly learned that the heavier weapons weren't for him. They seemed to throw his smaller frame around every which direction, no matter how hard he gripped them. The smaller carbines and rifles suited him better, allowing for more accuracy and range.

Joseph, however, was enjoying himself immensely. He soon became adept at firing a large .30 caliber machine gun, which was fed through a belt of ammunition and set on a tripod. Being much stronger than most of the beasts there, he could carry the weapon, tripod, and ammunition all by himself. And by the time he had burned through his ammunition, the steel drum downrange was nothing more than hunks of scrap metal.

The sun was already beginning to set by the time they cleaned their weapons and started marching back to camp. Everybeast had been assigned a weapon to carry, based on their performances during the day. Samuel had been glad to receive one of the M-1's, and Joseph was still rubbing his machine gun's receiver fondly.

The same mouse who had been hit in the face eyed him strangely. "I'm tellin' ya, isn't that a bit much to carry?"

Joseph winked at him. "Maybe fer you, pipsqueak. 'Taint no trouble for me."

The still, morning air was thick with tension as the recruits waited on the take-off area, a large circular plot of asphalt. Dawn was just beginning to creep over the treetops, glowing pink against the dark sky.

Samuel sat like all the others, weighed down by their parachutes and supplies. He fingered his boot laces nervously and tried to remember everything that had lead up to this. Two weeks of nothing but parachute training and instruction on everything they would need to accomplish the drop.

Besides the main and reserve parachute, they were carrying everything they would on an actual mission. Weapon, ammunition, first aid supplies, rations, spare clothing, maps, grenades, flares, tools, and countless other little trinkets that seemed to add up to an unbearable amount of weight to carry.

Movement caught his eye, swooping in over the trees. Two falcons, hauling what looked almost like a green-painted train car between them. Samuel's throat tightened with apprehension as they flared and landed, setting the container down carefully. The two birds had their beaks and cream-colored underbellies dyed in a mottled green and brown pattern to camouflage themselves.

Becker, who had been standing nearby, strode forward and took the first private's paw and hauled him to his feet. He gave him an affirming clap on the shoulder before allowing him to pass.

The stoat went on down the line, reaching Samuel halfway along the stretch. He pulled him to his feet and repeated the gesture. "Good luck," he said.

Samuel managed to nod, trying to hide his chattering teeth. His legs felt like leaden jelly as he strode towards the birds and their cargo.

The inside of the capsule was sparse, with just the sheet-metal chairs welded to the sides. A number of beasts were already inside, some checking their lines and knots one last time while others sat in silence, trying not to show the fear they all felt coursing through their veins.

Samuel sat next to another squirrel, noticing Joseph a few seats away on the opposite wall. He tried a shaky smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

Soon enough, all the seats were taken and the door was closed by the last beast in. He locked the exit and looked up for a moment. "This is it, boys!"

Suddenly, the pod lurched and they were in the air, gliding somewhat unsteadily. Samuel clutched his seat and tried to ignore the sound of somebeast losing his lunch.

The air rushed by outside as ground faded away below them, replaced by blue skies outside the windows. Most of the beasts slowly gained their confidence, looking outside and marveling at the sight. Few, if any had ever been in the air. But their wonder only lasted for a little while.

The jump-sergeant, a grizzled otter with more gray fur than brown, waved to get their attention. He pointed to the door, and then opened it with a yank.

Air rushed inside like a tornado, deafening them all. The otter somehow managed to shout above the noise. "Stand up!"

They all did so, teetering back and forth to keep their balance in the swaying vehicle.

The otter made a hooking motion with his paw. "Hook up!"

Samuel grabbed the carabineer hanging near his paw, which ran to the parachute on his back. He snapped the metal instrument onto the long metal rod running the length of the pod at about head height. When they jumped, the line would pull their parachutes for them. At least, they all hoped it would.

"Equipment check!" The otter made a motion like he was tugging on his pack.

Samuel checked over the parachute of the beast in front of him while the recruit behind him did the same. When they had completed this, the otter held up a paw. "Sound off for equipment check!"

A series of shouts came from the back of the plane. "Twenty okay!"

"Nineteen okay!"

"Eighteen okay!"

"Seventeen okay!"

When they had all sounded off, the otter grabbed the first creature in line and pushed him to the door. He was the fox Samuel had seen their first day, who had been chewed out by Becker. He managed to give the rest of them a thumbs-up and a smile before the green light came on overhead.

"Go, go, go!" The jump-sergeant yelled, placing a paw on the fox's back. He took a deep breath, crossed himself briefly, and leaped. Samuel caught a glimpse of his parachute opening a second later. A surge of relief filled him. _Maybe this won't be so bad,_ he thought to himself.

But the nagging sense of fear returned as the line moved forward. Two beasts had to be pulled to the side, unable to jump. The both hung their heads ashamedly as the rest passed them. They knew that their chances were over. Any hesitations in the air were automatic disqualification.

Suddenly, it was Samuel's turn. He closed his eyes as the jump-sergeant ushered him into position in the door. After taking a short breath he managed to pry open his eyes by sheer will. The ground below was splayed out like a green blanket, ribbed with forests and occasional houses. Morning light cast a golden pallor over the ground and the sky, which was just turning from the pinkish hue of dawn to the light blue of a fresh day. Samuel's fear melted away as he took in the beauty, smelling the fresh, cold air whipping past his face.

The otter's yell brought him back to the present. "Are you ready?" He yelled, placing a firm paw on his shoulder. Samuel could only nod as the green light clicked on. "Go, go, go!" The otter yelled, giving him a shove.

A sense of weightlessness suddenly took him, like nothing Samuel had ever felt. He shut his eyes tight, trying to repel the terror clanging in his chest. The air rushed past his face like a tornado, louder than anything he could have imagined. He was spinning, falling through the air like a leaf from a tree. It was then Samuel realized his parachute wasn't open yet.

_I'm going to die, _he thought, a strange peace coming over him. _I'm going to fall and fall until I hit the ground, and then…_

The parachute opened with a yank, like a giant had punched him square in the chest. The jerk shook his body to the core, straps biting into his shoulders and legs. He thought for a moment he would be torn apart from the forces buffeting his frame. And then, with the suddenness with which it had started, it stopped.

The feeling was indescribable. Floating, wafting through the air, Samuel found his heart slowing and the former sense of terror replaced by one of inquisitive bliss. _This is so strange, _he thought, clinging to the risers next to his head. _I never thought it would be like this. _

Finally, he got up the nerve to open his eyes. The view was just as spectacular, but slower and more peaceful. Instead of whipping and biting at his face, the wind turned and pushed him gently like it was playing with the parachute hanging above. A smile came across Samuel's features, and he couldn't suppress the joy building up inside. He took a breath and shouted. "Waaahhooooooo!"

Suddenly, the clearing was rushing up at him. Samuel flinched and drew his legs back while pulling the risers. This slowed his descent some, but the impact when he hit was still enough to drive the air from his lungs and send a jolt of pain up his legs. The parachute billowed around him like a loose blanket. He hurriedly got to his knees and undid the harness before the loose cloth took control.

Looking up, he saw more parachutes flittering down from the skies. Samuel gazed at the sky, astonished at what he had done. "I was up there," he said to himself, still grinning so broadly his mouth was hurting. The surge of pride that was building in his chest felt like it was going to burst.

A sudden chorus of breaking branches and muffled swearing brought his attention to a stand of trees behind him. There was a parachute dangling from a tree, some creature hanging from it. Samuel hurriedly stuffed his own into the pack and rushed to the victim.

Joseph's grinning face met his as Samuel looked up. "Hey there, mate. Mind giving me a paw?" He was only a few feet above the ground, but he couldn't reach the knife on the back of his belt.

His squirrel friend laughed, climbing up the few feet in the blink of an eye. He retrieved the knife, slicing through the cordage and sending Joseph to the leaf-strewn ground. After brushing himself off, he managed to pull the parachute down and get it inside his own bag. The two friends strolled back through the clearing, towards a smoke signal a few hundred yards away trailing orange haze.

"Well, we missed the drop zone," Samuel said, readjusting the pack on his shoulder.

Joseph shrugged. "Ah, I don't think it'll be a problem. After all, there are some beasts that landed further away than us."

They turned around and spotted one of the parachutes in another large field, almost a half mile away. Samuel couldn't help but laugh. "I don't want to be that beast when Becker finds them."


	4. Chapter 4 Spearhead

Time for Chapter 4! This one was a little tough to write for me, because it's not action or anything terribly engaging, but important to the storyline nonetheless. Now let me explain why I just call the vermin 'the Faction'. I had a cooler name earlier, which I can't remember, but while I was doing some perusing of some earlier Redwall stories, it turned out somebody already had it for their bad guys. So I decided that instead of using it and starting a huge flame war, I'd go with something simple and a little stupid. So that's that.

As always, R&R! Or Joseph will find you. With his 1919. It won't end well.

* * *

That night found every one of the new sky-jumpers talking, joking, and drinking to celebrate their graduation. Each wore their best uniform and recently pinned jump awards, two eagle talons with a parachute and rifle cross in the center. The awards were worn on the uniform lapel, so every beast that saw had little doubt they were.

The mess hall had been festooned with long ribbons and lights, which cast a yellow pallor through the cigar-smoke filled room. Empty bottles and cases littered the tables, but the supply was far from depleted. It seemed to Samuel every time he polished off one drink, two more were thrust in his direction. Before long, his head was buzzing pleasantly. Joseph had drank even more than him, yet seemed to be in more control than his squirrel friend was.

Samuel managed to stumble into a chair and settle in next to the otter, who was in the process of draining an entire bottle of ale in one draught. He took one final gulp before sighing and tossing the bottle away. "I tell ye, mate," he said, wrapping an arm around Samuel's shoulders. "This is the life. And just think about what the girls in town are going to say, huh?" He smiled and nudged him good-naturedly.

Samuel grinned unevenly. "As soon as the room stops spinning. I'm not sure it's supposed to do that."

A sudden shout cut through the laughter like a knife. "All beasts, attention on deck! Officer present!"

Every creature shot to his feet, no matter how unsteadily. Colonel Weatherby, dressed in his own Class A uniform, smiled and nodded. "At ease, everybeast."

They all shuffled into a more comfortable position, some finding it hard with their head swimming. The brawny, imposing Otter lifted his chin and began speaking. "You are the first of your kind. Never before has an outfit such as this been deployed in combat. Many outside of this unit do not believe that we can make a difference, that we can fight. You are going to prove them wrong, dead wrong. I know what you all went through to get here, and I expect nothing less than your absolute best in the field."

He dropped his head for a moment, seeming to be contemplating something. Finally, after a moment of unbearable silence, he looked up at the steely-eyed creatures. "Your first deployment will be to the Eastern Lands, in two months' time. Along with a combined force of naval, land, and air support, you will lead the spearhead into vermin territory. Far too long has that land been enslaved and oppressed by foxes and their hordes. Your job is a simple one: Go in, and kick the ever-loving shit out of them."

A wild cheer rose up from the crowds, unabated even in the Colonel's presence. He simply nodded and raised a paw. "Good luck. And may God be with you."

As the cheering and hollering of excited beasts continued, Samuel leaned closer to Joseph. "Foxes? I knew we were fighting vermin, but what's so special about these ones?"

Joseph was able to speak once the noise died down somewhat. "From my understanding," he said, sitting down on a nearby chair and carefully polishing his boots. "They're the mangy bunch who took control of the vermin bands a few years ago, promises of loot and power, you know the drill. Calls 'emselves 'the Faction'. Supposedly, their kind was mistreating the good creatures of that place fer some time, but we ain't heard about it until recently. Salamandastron got wind of it and started marshalling troops. I guess we're the first in, eh mate?"

Samuel tried to match his friend's jovial attitude. But inside his heads, thoughts were whirring and clicking away rapid-fire. How would he react in battle? What if he was hurt, or killed? What would his parents say? Could he kill another creature?

The last one stopped him cold. Samuel actually had to sit down and take a few deep breaths before calm returned and his vision stopped bursting with tiny flashes of light. _To kill another living thing, _he thought, trying to swallow the concept. _How could I even hope to do such a thing?_

Only after taking a drink from a nearby pitcher of water was he able to gather himself and get back to the celebration. But the conversation and laugher seemed far away as the thoughts preyed on his mind.

_What am I going to do?_

Soon afterwards, their training routine picked up once more. Becker was still in charge, but the tone had changed from one of abuse and violence to careful, calculated instructions. Voices were only raised in extreme circumstances, and questions were met with honest answers instead of contempt-filled stares.

The trained with more weapons, such as rocket launchers and pistols. That was one point Becker seemed to stress time and time again. "If you're hanging from a tree," he had said while demonstrating proper technique and how to deploy the handgun. "And all you can reach is this thing here; you'll want to know how it works and how to use one properly. Remember, the only thing those Rats have on their mind is gutting you like a fish. It's up to you to stop them."

Samuel had noticed that term thrown around quite a bit among the recruits. While the vast majority of enemy fighters were species other than rats, the name seemed to have stuck as a sort of derogatory slur. He wasn't exactly sure what to think about it. Yes, it may have been insulting to say, but when they were trying to kill you and your friends, tip-toeing around offensive terms wasn't one of your primary objectives.

They also made more jumps, most with full combat loads and weapons. They even made one during night, when clouds had obstructed all the stars and the moon. The recruits were tasked with getting back to the barracks before dawn and not getting caught. Needless to say, more than a few failed.

But the time went quickly. Samuel saw this both as a blessing and a curse. It meant that the agonizing wait was soon to be over and they would be taking action. But it also brought the crushing, suffocating weight further down into his chest. By the time an order came to gather equipment and meet at the parade ground, Samuel was almost a wreck. He hadn't slept in days, hardly eaten, and felt perpetually nauseas. Joseph, however, seemed to be enjoying the whole thing. Hefting the forty-pound machine gun like a toy, he joined Samuel as the platoon marched to the waiting trucks. "I'll tell ye, mate, I can't wait to make that jump! Nothin' like the first combat leap, eh?"

Samuel couldn't even fake a smile. Instead, he nodded feverishly, which sent his helmet bobbing up and down over his eyes. He didn't speak for fear of puking over his boots.

As they tossed bags onto the trucks, he noticed some of the creatures looking at him. They almost looked sorry for them, almost pitiful. One of the hares in charge of the supply columns actually shook his head. "You won't be catchin' me on board one of those blinkin' parajumpingwhoozawhatsits, no sah. Flamin' deathtraps, eh wot?"

Samuel could only gape in shock as the truck started with a sputter and roared off.

The small chunk of land designated for their departure, known as a staging area, was nothing but a strip of open field ringed by bunkers and small wooden huts. They had driven for hours over roads so neglected that the trucks could only move at a crawl. Every bump and hole in the road sent every beast smacking their head on the overhead bar holding up the canvas top. There was more grumbling and complaining than actual conversation during the entire trip. But as the sun was beginning to rise higher in the clear morning sky, the trucks ground to a halt and they were ordered to disembark.

Stretching and rubbing his legs gratefully, Samuel examined his surroundings. Rows of small tents lined one edge of the quarter-mile long field, with sandbag-reinforced positions and anti-aircraft guns ringing the perimeter. A large, open building covered by a camouflage net made up the bird living quarters, where many of the hawks, falcons, and eagles were already living.

Ushered along by a twitchy, eager-looking mouse sergeant, Samuel's platoon and the others that joined to make up the company were directed to pick a tent and report for roll call. As Samuel was arranging his belongings on the small cot that made up his bed, a tough-looking hare wearing officer stripes on one shoulder stopped at his bunk. "Name, rank, and serial numbah, mah lad!"

Drilled by the weeks of training, Samuel spun around to face the officer and stood to rigid attention, nearly screaming the response as Becker had made them do so many times. "Samuel Melton, private first class, oh-two-eight-four-seven-nine-one, sah!"

The hare rubbed his ear with a finger, wincing slightly. "No need to yell there, laddie buck. I'm just the personnel sergeant, don'cha know."

Samuel threw a crisp salute, snapping off his response. "Yes, sah. Won't happen again, sah!"

As the sergeant shook his head and strolled away, Samuel relaxed and went back to his things. Joseph, however, was in stitches. Wiping a tear from his eye, he shoved Samuel playfully and nearly sent him sprawling onto the next cot. "I'll tell ya, mate. It's been a long time and it'll be a lot longer 'afore I hear a hare like that complaining o' yore noise."

His friend shrugged and sat down on the metal-framed bunk. "Suppose all hares can't be that regimental. Maybe we got lucky with that one?"

Joseph sat down on the other cot, staring quizzically at him. After a moment of awkward silence, Samuel looked up. "What?" He asked innocently.

"Now yore gonna tell me the truth here, mate." Joseph said, crossing his burly arms and looking down his nose. "What's eatin' at ye?"

Samuel shrugged, trying not to look at his friend's calculating eyes. "Nothin, just tired is all. That ride took it out of me."

"Uh-huh. And is that why ye haven't eaten for two days, and only spoken to officers when they addressed ye? Come on, mate, let me help ye."

Trying to avoid looking his eyes, Samuel confessed to his friend. "I'm scared, mate." He said, trying to lower his tone. "I'm scared at...at what'll happen."

Before his friend could reply, another voice piped up from right behind him. "Everyone's scared, laddie buck. Anyone who says he isn't is a liar, or he's bloomin' nutso."

Samuel spun around to look directly into the face of the hare that had left just moments before. "Sir, you weren't supposed to...ah..."

The hare squatted down until he was level with the squirrel. "Listen to me, boy-o." he said in a calm and affirming voice. "It's just a natural emotion, wot? Ain't nobeast here that isn't scared out of their pantaloons. And believe me, laddie, you will be for a long time. Just don't dwell on it too much, eh wot?"

And with that, he stood and marched off to leave the two friends in stunned silence. After a few moments, Joseph coughed and heaved his friend up by the arm. "Come on, Sam. Let's try and finagle a cup of joe from one o' the supply beasts. Always helps me with the jitters."

Samuel nodded, smiling in earnest for the first time in what felt like ages. "Thanks, Joseph. I think that'll help."

As they passed the rows of cots crammed together under the canvas tarp, he noticed somebeast hunched over something a few rows down. The creature seemed to be cleaning or inspecting something, but Samuel couldn't tell until they passed and he managed a glimpse backwards.

He was the meanest-looking, slit-eyed ferret Samuel had ever seen. His slick, matte brown fur was so dark it almost appeared to be charcoal black. The rifle he gripped with leather-gloved paws was a simple, yet obviously deadly weapon. From the perfectly blued steel bolt and large hunting-style scope, it was clear that this rifle was designed for one purpose and one purpose only: To kill with efficiency and complete lack of prejudice for whoever was unfortunate enough to be in its sights.

The ferret looked up from his work momentarily, just long enough to stare at Samuel like he knew what the squirrel was doing. His eyes nearly froze the petrified squirrel in place. They were green as an emerald, like a serpent's. The pupils were hardly distinguishable from the rest of the eye, giving them an illusion of perpetual awareness.

Samuel forced himself to tear away from the ferret's ensnaring gaze. Catching up with Joseph, he whispered to his friend. "Do you know who that ferret is?"

He nodded grimly. "Aye, I know who he is." he murmured. "Nasty feller, goes by the name of Karim. He's one of them snipers."

A shiver ran up Samuel's spine. He had heard of snipers before. They were beasts trained for the specific task of killing others without thought or remorse with a single bullet. Supposedly, the way Becker had put it many weeks ago, they were invaluable assets on the battlefield, but cold, heartless bastards.

After finally scrounging up the supply beast and talking a few cups of coffee out of him, the two went back to their bunks. Karim was still there, polishing the glass lens of his scope. He ignored the two friends as they passed.

A few more beasts had shown up and had taken up residence around the cots. One particular squirrel across from Samuel seemed to have a big mouth; bragging about his gang's exploits before the war and how sorry those Rats were going to be when he got to them. Sneering and jerking his head towards Karim, he whispered to his mouse friend. "Didn't know they were lettin' greasy ol' vermin into our army."

Before anyone could hardly blink, there was the unmistakable sound of a pistol slide being racked. Samuel's eyes flashed to the ferret, who now had his .45 trained on the obnoxious squirrel. The beast was starting to shake, holding up trembling paws. "N-no offense meant, m-m-mate, just thought I'd..."

When Karim spoke, it was like the dry rustle of a reptile sliding over grass. Quiet enough to make them listen, but loud enough for them to immediately recognize the venom in his voice. "You will live much longer, tree-mouse, if you learn to keep your opinions to yourself. Remember that, as the Rats may not be as forgiving as me."

Lowering the hammer slowly and returning the pistol to its holster, Karim went back to work while the squirrel and his friend promptly found a new spot down the row quite a ways. Joseph chuckled to himself and took a sip of his drink. "Serves 'em right. Some of the best fightin' beasts I know are stoats and weasels and the like. Mayhaps some still have some resentment against woodlanders and vice versa, but it be a sad day when somebeast can't have enough common courtesy to treat another one squarely."

The days melted into a week, and then two. They hardly did anything the entire time, lounging and trying not to dwell on what was coming. The only formal process they continued was morning roll call and breakfast. After those two, it was up to each beast to figure out some way to kill time. Samuel took to practicing boxing with Joseph, who had learned it from a hare some time ago. It kept them both in fighting shape, as some of the officers called it. For Samuel, it was just a good way to eat up the hours.

But one thing kept bothering him. Karim seemed to disappear during the days, vanishing into the thick woods around the staging area. Sometimes he would be gone for just a few hours, or he wouldn't show up until after dinner. Samuel once spotted him applying dye to his fur, camouflaging it even further. The ferret was a mystery, that much was for sure. But Samuel couldn't help himself from thinking about what side he would be on when the shooting started.

They had just finished a breakfast of hash browns and fruit salad one morning when the mess hall doors sprang open and Colonel Weatherby strolled inside, immediately met by salutes and creatures snapping to attention. Lifting a paw for them to stand at ease, he took a moment to look at the beasts arrayed about the room, each one anxious for what he was about to say. "Sky-jumpers, the time has come for us to prove what we can do on the battlefield. Tomorrow night, we depart for Mossflower Country. Today you will receive orders and targets, along with a supply list to be gathered from the Sergeants.

"The peaceful inhabitants of that region have been under the oppressive rule of the faction for far too long. Tomorrow night, you will spearhead the assault that will forever remove them from power."

The Colonel actually had to take a short pause, trying to collect his thoughts in the flurry of emotions. "That is all. Fight hard, keep your heads down, and watch each other's backs. It's the only help you're going to get. Dismissed."

The room was still silent as he strode out, letting the door shut behind him with a dull clang. Samuel sank down into his seat, trying to stop the shaking in his legs. Even Joseph was at a loss for words, staring at his boots in shock. "Never thought it'd be so soon," he murmured, standing up and marching off.

The whole camp seemed to have an aura of shock to it. Even Karim, who Samuel had seen at the mess hall, seemed to be a little shaken up. Filing robotically into a semi-circle around one of the Sergeants, a lanky mouse with bright eyes and a perpetual grin on his face, Samuel joined the rest of his platoon around a large map.

"Now," the mouse began, pointing with a stick. "Mossflower country is mostly thick woods and grasslands, with the odd village or town thrown in for good measure. But," he said, moving the pointer to a yellow spot marked onto the paper. "There is one major city that has to be taken. The town of Valoar. Approximately twelve thousand residents still living there, with at least four divisions of foot troops, and one consisting of mechanized infantry and armor as well. Now, here's the thing," the energetic mouse said, shifting the stick to a piece of elevated ground a few miles east. "This hill is more than just a little rise in the earth. For one, it provides a perfect sighting position for artillery and air strikes, something you'll need to take that town. But here's the catch. You sky-jumpers aren't going to take the town, see? No way, no how. You guys are way too under-equipped and don't have enough troops. No offense, though."

A murmur of agreement went through the crowd as the mouse went on. "Your job isn't the only one that matters. Remember how the Colonel said the sky-jumpers were only the tip of the spear? Well, he wasn't lying. We've got our own armies, coming in from the east and the north. One of their objectives is to take Valoar, but they can't do that if the Rats have that hill. Oh yeah, I almost forgot." The mouse tapped his nose. "The old abbey of Redwall is still on top of that hill. It use to be on sea-level, but I guess the ground changes after a few hundred years. Who knew?" He said, shrugging his shoulders.

Samuel listened intently as the officer mouse spoke, watching every move of the pointing stick and gesture of the paw carefully. Soon enough, the plan was explained. The sky-jumpers had one job: Take the abbey of Redwall from the enemy, and use it to coordinate the air and artillery strikes around the city of Valoar. But that was much easier said than done. The abbey itself was defended by an entire division of vermin fighters, spread out not only on the hill itself but in the surrounding forests and small settlements.

'The only advantage you boys really have," the mouse had said, "Is surprise. Them Rats have no clue you're a-comin'. So move fast and don't give 'em a chance to get their senses together. Right, that's about it. Get your gear ready for tomorrow night, and good luck, fellows."

Samuel stumbled into his bunk sometime later, thoughts snapping in his head like gunfire. As he lay there, the words of the hare some days ago came back. _Everyone's scared, laddie buck. _

Somehow, he forced himself to get up and begin packing his supplies. Running to the supply shed and back again, counting his ammunition, and a million other tasks quickly took up the remaining hours of the day. By the time Samuel sat down on his bunk, panting heavily after putting the final things together, the sun was already beginning to set. Joseph approached, hauling his machine gun and rucksack like they weighed nothing. Setting the load down with a thump, the otter sat on the edge of his cot and reached into his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Lighting one with the small flame, he took a drag and then exhaled the blue-gray smoke through his mouth. He noticed the look on Samuel's face. "What? You want one?"

Samuel waved a paw. "No, I don't smoke. Where'd you get them, anyway?"

Still puffing, Joseph toyed with the lighter. "Oh, I finagled a deal with one o' the supply sergeants. A can o' peaches and one set of spare bootlaces later, here we are." He said, waving the pack. "'sides, I don't like peaches."

Samuel laughed, the first moment of levity in what felt like ages. Lying down on his bunk, though, he knew it would also be a long time before he felt another. And closing his eyes, he didn't know if he ever would.


	5. Chapter 5 Doors of Fire

Thankfully for all of my fans (HAH! Fans, that's a good one...) I decided to not put uploading this part until the weekend. Thank our good Lord above that it snowed, and school is cancelled. So today is studying, working, and doing some more on this story.

And for those wondering when the action is coming...ye shall not be dissapointed with this chapter! Not giving away specifics, but just read on. And as always, R&R.

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Everybeast was being roused long before the sun had risen. Samuel, along with all the other soldiers, grumbled and complained at being awoken so early. What was the point? They weren't leaving until that night. But orders were orders, so they all slipped into their fatigues and went to the parade ground, gathering in their tight formations.

After a few moments of odd, still silence, Weatherby stepped up onto a small podium and began to speak. He ran over the same plan as had been discussed the day prior, adding just a few more details. Like the recent movement of twelve anti-air guns into the immediate area around their drop zone. Everybeast involuntarily flinched when he mentioned that. The birds that were dropping them into battle were tough, but not invincible. One solid hit from one of the massive guns would send them spiraling towards the ground in a fireball.

The air was thick with tension by the time Weatherby finished. Stepping down from the stand, he saluted them all. After each one of them returned the gesture smartly, he spoke just loud enough for all to hear. "Give 'em hell."

A roaring cheer went up, followed by hats thrown into the air. Samuel joined in, spurred on even by those few simple words. The otter smiled tightly, nodding once before heading off towards his own tent.

After order had been restored, orders came to gather all equipment and meet in the take-off area. They would have nothing else to do except sit and wait for late afternoon. Supposedly, the departure time had been dropped back two hours or so, giving them time to maneuver on the ground in darkness. Samuel was having a hard time keeping his breakfast down each time he thought of stepping inside that steel pod, waiting for the order to drop. Would they even make it out? Or would they get hit by a shell, blowing them to pieces drifting on the night sky? He started to wonder what being burned to death would be like.

He snapped out of the nightmare as Joseph plopped down next to his bunk, finishing up his own preparations. Most of them had been rushed and half-done, as the otter had spent nearly half the day meticulously cleaning and scrubbing every part of his machine gun. It almost had some sort of calming effect on him, Samuel had noticed. Now his friend was rushing to get the last of his kit together.

Samuel watched Joseph struggle and curse under his breath at his rucksack for a few minutes before stepping in to help. "Here," he said, reorganizing a few things and sealing it shut with the drawstring. "That should do it."

"Thanks, mate." Joseph hefted the pack and tested its weight. "She's a heavy one, but it'll do."

"You're complaining about weight?" Samuel said, laughing. "I thought you said that gun of yours wasn't any trouble?"

They continued joking for a while, doing anything they could to take their minds off of what was to come. But as their horseplay died down, Samuel's mind drifted back to the mental images he kept having: Rivers of flame, cutting through their pod and sending them to a burning demise. Or getting caught in a tree, nothing but target or torture practice for whatever vermin was waiting. Samuel could almost see the glint of an enemy beast's bayonet, driving towards his heart.

He was snapped out of his nightmare by a shout from the end of the cots. "Ten minutes!" A hare was yelling. "Ten minutes before wheels up, lads! Get ya gear and move tah the hassembly areas, ASAP!" This was followed by a flurry of activity as the last troops got their equipment together and began to head towards the large open field.

With trembling paws, Samuel fastened the buckle on his helmet and made sure his weapon and pack were secure, Joseph following suit. With a final nod, the two strode towards the growing crowd sitting on the field. They nearly fell over when they sat down their supplies were so heavy. Joseph hoisted himself into a sitting position, using his tail to remain upright. "Gwah, think they gave us enough?"

Samuel nodded to stop his teeth from chattering. "I'd rather have a lot of it and not need it, than need it and not have it."

"You're just sayin' that because you ain't carrying old Bertha."

He gave his otter friend a peculiar look. "Bertha?"

Patting the weapon strapped his back, Joseph smiled. "Aye, that's her name. Bertha was me mum's friend, big ol' hedgehog the size of a truck. Nice, though. Always gave me a cookie or summat when we were over."

Samuel could only shake his head.

An eerie, awkward silence soon fell over the clump of two hundred or so beasts. Some lit up cigarettes or chewed gum, but most just sat quietly, wondering if they would see the dawn. Samuel fingered the small cross necklace he had worn since boot camp. _Please, _he thought to himself. _Don't let me die tonight._

Somebeast suddenly pointed to the west, towards the setting sun. "Here they come!"

They all looked up just as the first two birds swooped in over the tree line, already hauling their pod. As they settled down in the pasture with a flapping of wings and cloud of dust, Samuel noticed what was painted on the front of the cylindrical chamber. A curved beak, clutching a bullet. The words "Bite the bullet" had been painted underneath the drawing. He couldn't help but smile.

The first thirty or so beasts stood up, sometimes with help from another because of the heavy load they carried. The last one inside, a squirrel laden with so much equipment he could hardly walk straight, turned to the rest of them and waved. "See you on the other side, everyone!"

The birds took to flight after the door was shut; flapping their wings to gain momentum before leaping into the still, warm evening air. Soon enough, another pair of birds appeared and landed. With that, the invasion began.

Samuel anxiously awaited his squad's turn. Tapping his boot against the hard dirt, he tried to think about other things. But that was hard, knowing that in the next twenty-four hours he could be dead. His friend, however, seemed to be oddly relaxed. He took a drag on a cigarette, lazily blowing the smoke between his lips.

As another pair of falcons came over the horizon, Samuel knew it was their turn. As the birds flared and landed, he grasped Joseph's paw and helped him stand. His heart was beating so loudly he thought the sound was echoing in his helmet, bouncing around the inside of the metal container. Each step seemed to send a shock up his legs and straight into his chest. All thirty of them walked to the door in single file, each trying to hide the pounding fear inside their chests.

At the door, Samuel took a breath and closed his eyes briefly before stepping up. Inside, the pod was just like the ones they had trained in. Blank, gray-painted walls and just a few tiny windows, each only about the size of his paw. He half-sat, half-fell into one of the seats, trying to strap himself in with trembling paws. After fumbling for a moment, he found Joseph reaching over and buckling the restraint. "Thanks," he murmured, trying to avoid opening his mouth for fear of vomiting on the floor.

Joseph clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly, but there was no smile on his face. Just a determined, fiery look in his eyes. "We're gonna be fine, mate." he said, nodding at his friend. "We're gonna be just fine."

Samuel tried to believe it, forced himself to believe it as the birds flapped their wings. Clutching his seat, he closed his eyes as they lifted off. The familiar sensation of being lifted away from the ground was oddly comforting, and for a brief moment he was able to forget everything. All that mattered was the feeling of taking to the air, of being free.

But that feeling melted away to be replaced by the same nagging, pulse-racing fear as they leveled out. Samuel gazed around at the creatures sitting around him. They all had what he imagined was the same expression as him. Gaping, wide eyes and tightly sealed lips. Some were praying, others smoking or trying anything they could to relieve some of the tension.

As they gained airspeed, the wind whipping past made it impossible to hear anything. Everything had turned into a great roar as the air rushed by. The air was getting colder, too. Samuel turned slightly and stared out a window. There was no more sunlight. By tomorrow morning, he would either be alive, wounded, or dead. He imagined himself, lying in a puddle of mire and blood after being shredded by a machine gun. Or desperately trying to crawl away after stepping on a mine and mangling his legs, pulling himself along with blood-stained hands and pleading for help as enemy soldiers watched and laughed.

A small bump of turbulence shook him into full consciousness. He fumbled inside his jacket, bringing out the cross necklace and bowing his head. "Our father, who are in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done..."

He repeated the prayer over and over again, not knowing if he was whispering or shouting it because of the wind, but saying it nonetheless. For a short blissful while, all he was aware of was the words passing his lips and the darkness behind his closed eyelids. Time was completely lost on him. He wasn't sure if it had been hours or minutes when the first thud shook the airframe.

Opening his eyes, he saw the other beasts already glancing around nervously. It could have just been another spot of turbulence, for all they knew. But those aspirations were quickly shattered when a blinding flash of yellow and orange light appeared outside, quickly fading to a ball of smoke. Samuel's eyes grew wide with terror as more of the fireballs began to dot the sky, bursting in a flash of red and yellow.

Over the roar of the wind, the explosions sounded like dull thuds, sometimes followed by what could only be described as gravel being tossed against a tin roof. The realization dawned on them all in a rush of fear; it was shrapnel, pelting the outside of the pod.

Everybeast was shifting nervously and twitching with every explosion. Samuel looked out the window, astonished by the sight. The night sky seemed to be filled with the fiery blasts. Sometimes they would be accompanied by a burning streak and trail of smoke as the phosphorous ignited in-flight. Samuel couldn't stop himself from thinking of a serpent's tail as he gazed out of the window. He thought he caught a glimpse of a pod falling, being pulled to the earth by a slain bird. But he shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind, telling himself it must have been something else.

But those ponderings soon became the last of his concerns as their entire vehicle shuddered, shaking from a thunderous explosion just outside the pod. Samuel could only think of the birds outside, only lightly armored and forced to fly through the thick clouds of shrapnel and fire. Another shell exploded nearby, cracking a nearby window with the force of the blast or chunk of metal, nobeast could be sure.

Brief shouts began to murmur through their ranks. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

"We aren't gonna last any longer, we gotta get out!"

"Hit the green, come on! Hit the green!"

The jump-sergeant, a lanky, grizzled hare, held up a paw to stifle the fear and maintain order. "Hold on just a blinkin' minute, chaps! We're nearly there, wot! Just a little more..."

The shell must have detonated just outside the doorway, because the cloud of smoke and metal shards was propelled straight down the center of the aisle. Everybeast involuntarily screamed, some holding paws to the sides of their heads while others stared at the hare's body leaning against the opposite wall. The metal wall was speckled with blood from the dozens of wounds peppering his body, along with the enormous gouge torn out of his head.

Samuel couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight as the green light bulb flickered on overhead. Amid the yelling, scrambling, and jostling creatures, Samuel continued to stare at the dead hare. He had been talking just the moment before, and now he was dead. All the squirrel was aware of was the dull ringing in his own head, and the rapidly pooling puddle of blood trickling down to the floor around the body.

Somebeast suddenly pushed him forward, shouting into his ear over the deafening sounds echoing in his head. "Hook up, tree-jumper! This is it!"

Samuel fumbled for the small karabiner hanging from over his shoulder. His fingers and paws didn't seem to follow his commands, dropping and failing to clasp onto the line overhead. Finally, he managed to click the device in just as the vehicle jumped under their feet, and the window shattered nearby. A mouse yelped, holding a paw to his bloody face as the glass dug into his skin, but stayed in line. Ahead, the new jump-sergeant, who Samuel couldn't make out in the darkness, was shouting. "Equipment check!"

They began the ritual, finding it near impossible to see in the eerie, dim green light. When they had all sounded off, each with a voice filled with tension and fear, the jump-sergeant held up a paw. "Stand by!"

Samuel's heart would have leaped out of his chest at that very moment, except for the fact that he was so terrified that he could hardly notice. The inside of the pod was bathed in an eerie, hellish green light. Creatures jostled back and forth, screaming and crying. He caught a glimpse of the jump-sergeant, leaning out of the door for a brief second before turning to them. Samuel still couldn't see his face, but jumped as he yelled to them all. "This is it, lads! Go, get out! Get out!"

The creatures were shuffling forward with agonizing slowness. Samuel's paws were trembling so badly he had to clutch onto the pack of the beast in front of him. As they neared the door, he chanced a look through one of the less damaged windows. What he saw stunned him. The night sky was shrouded in smoke and blooms of fire, sometimes followed by puff of feathers or explosion as the shell found its mark. One of the pods, flying just a hundred yards or so to their right, suddenly disappeared in a flash of light and flame, leaving nothing but a few strips of metal floating in the air.

Somebeast pushed him forward, tearing his gaze from the nightmarish image. The line was shortening, and Samuel was nearly at the front. He shut his eyes briefly, praying silently. But even that was interrupted as the jumper-sergeant grabbed him by the collar, putting him into the doorway. "Good luck, son!" And then he pushed, launching Samuel into the hellish night.

For the briefest of seconds, Samuel's world seemed oddly peaceful. The only sound was the rushing of wind past his ears, and the sensation of free-falling through the smoke-laced air was steady and consistent. He drew in a short breath, smelling the strong odor of cordite and explosives. The ground below was dark and peaceful, save for an occasional flash from one of the massive guns. He managed a single thought before the chute jerked open. _We can't even see them. How did we know they were here?_

And then his body lurched, the billowing parachute opening above him. The teeth-rattling yank was enough to cause stars to burst in front of his eyes. His ears were deafened by a detonating shell, which seemed close enough to singe his hair. But the parachute stayed open, and as far as his fear and adrenaline-wracked brain could tell, he was unhurt.

Samuel looked down and almost yelped in surprise. The ground was mere seconds away, and rapidly approaching. He pulled on the risers frantically, hoping to decrease his speed at least slightly. The wind was pushing him towards an empty field, surrounded on all sides by a thick square of trees and shrubs. Samuel gritted his teeth in preparation for the landing. _This is going to be rough; _he managed to think before the earth met him.

The impact sent a jarring thud up his entire body. Samuel followed his training, and bent his knees at the moment his boots touched ground. Wincing slightly, he rolled and collapsed in a heap, panting half with pain, and half with fear. His ears began to pick up the distinctive sound of guns, firing steadily. Some were shorter, most likely machine guns, while the slower _thump thump thump _indicated heavy artillery or anti-aircraft weapons. But all Samuel knew was that he was alone, vulnerable, and lost in enemy territory. He frantically cut at the straps holding him to the parachute harness, almost slicing open his own paw.

Finally, Samuel managed to free himself. He immediately sat up and looked around, his head on a swivel. The field was pitch-dark, surrounded by patches of thick trees. Almost hyperventilating with fear and shock, he fumbled for his rifle. After his trembling fingers managed to push the clip home and slam the bolt closed, he dashed to what he imagined was the relative safety of the trees.

The shadows immediately closed in, what little moonlight there was blocked by the treetops. Samuel's heart was racing almost uncontrollably. He forced himself to take a few breaths, which was more difficult than he imagined. Every time a gun went off or a shell burst overhead, his lungs and heart twinged slightly. But after a few moments of utter terror, he began to analyze his surroundings carefully.

The trees seemed to separate the fields, forming a sort of boundary. They were only a few yards wide, but stretched on for hundreds of yards. Samuel squinted into the darkness, watching intently with baited breath for any movement. Thankfully, a squad of vermin soldiers didn't charge with bayonets drawn. Instead, a machine gun let off a long, angry burst in the opposite direction. Samuel instinctively dove to the ground, realizing that the gun couldn't be more than fifty yards in front of him.

He was suddenly faced with an agonizing decision. Should he find the gun emplacement and eliminate it, or go in the other direction and try to find a road? But the option suddenly became clear as a parachute seemed to materialize out of the darkness, dropping into the opposite field. The soldier, invisible in the darkness, grunted and swore as he crashed into the open grass.

Samuel pushed himself off the ground and took off. It would only be a matter of seconds before the machine gun crew noticed the parachute. He had one chance to save this beast's life. His boots thudded over the dirt as the sound of gunfire grew closer. The staccato _tatatatatatat _of the machine gun was followed by tracers streaking into the air, searching for their target.

Something caught Samuel's attention. Hardly visible through the darkness and thick trees, was a small ring of sandbags. His heart leapt into his throat, beating madly. Samuel took a short breath and gripped his rifle, beginning to slink through the trees. Every movement seemed ten times as loud, even though much of it was covered by the constant gunfire.

Things started to become clearer. Samuel squinted, hardly able to make out the shifting silhouettes of what looked like two soldiers. Their coal-black uniforms left little doubt what they were. Swallowing the fear creeping into his chest, Samuel raised his rifle and clicked the safety off. The sights crept onto the first soldier, hardly visible in the dark. Reciting a silent prayer, Samuel began to pull the trigger.

The noise was definitely not a gunshot. Instead, the distinctive _thud _of a grenade, followed by a cloud of dirt and smoke. Samuel heard a short, agonized scream before the voice cut off. Shaking uncontrollably, he could only watch as another figure moved into the smoke, checking the two bodies. Suddenly, it stood and looked directly at Samuel.

He was sure that the next sound he heard would be a single rifle shot or submachine gun burst, followed shortly by bullets tearing him apart. Instead, his ears picked up a distinctive hissing noise. The figure was waving at him, raising his rifle. Samuel heaved a sigh of relief and walked, still hunched over, to the creature.

It was a mouse, tall and lanky. The fur on his face was covered with camouflage paint, but his blue eyes were flashing brightly. He smiled, slapping Samuel's shoulder like a long-time friend. "Sorry, friend. Didn't mean to take your kills." He whispered, gesturing to the shrapnel-riddled vermin. "You with the 17th?"

Samuel shook his head, astonished. The 17th was another sky-jumper division, but they were supposed to be dropped much further north. "No, the 26th, he said. "How come you're down here? I thought you guys were further up in the woodlands?"

The mouse shook his head, dismayed. "So did I. Guess the birds got scattered with all the flak. Tommy's the name, by the way. I came down in that field, just a couple yards back."

They shook paws, each glad to see a friendly face. "Samuel Melton. Where are you supposed to be going?"

Before either could speak, the thunderous roar of an anti-aircraft gun lit up the night sky. It was coming from just a hundred or so yards away, well within hearing. "Away from here," Tommy said over the noise. "Come on, let's go."

They took off along the tree line, stopping every fifty feet or so to look and listen for movement. Samuel involuntarily flinched every time a shell exploded overhead, which was only getting more and more frequent. Searchlights probed the night sky, searching for their prey. Occasionally, one would flash against the underside of a pod or bird and would be shortly followed by a thunderous barrage of shells.

After following the stand of trees for a ways, they came to a small dirt road crossing over an even smaller ditch. But the small space under the bridge was enough to conceal the two, and they took the position with little thought. Tommy rummaged in his pockets, finally producing a map and small flashlight. Samuel glanced at the metal tube apprehensively. "Won't that give us away, if anybeast is outside?"

Tommy gestured to the red film covering the lens. "Night filter, works wonders. But keep watch while I figure out where we are, just in case."

Samuel peered attentively out into the darkness until Tommy poked him on the shoulder. "Alright, here's the deal." He pointed to a spot on the map, which looked like a number of large squares situated near a small village. "This is where we are, and that town there is about ten clicks southeast of this old abbey, Redwall."

The squirrel nodded. "That's where my unit is headed. Or, at least they were supposed to. If you ended up here, there's no telling where they got to."

Tommy grunted in agreement. "That's what I was thinking. But seeing as it's closer than my objective, it seems like a better proposition. Mind if I tag along?"

Samuel actually chuckled. "I'd be terrified if you didn't. So far, the only living things I've seen are you and those two vermin." He shuddered a bit at the thought.

"Well then," Tommy said as he folded the map and picked up his rifle. "I suppose we'd best get going."

The two crawled out of the ditch, beginning their slow, arduous trek. The night sky, still lit up with the flashes of anti-aircraft fire and tracer rounds, was still clouded with parachutes as the two went along. But it seemed as if as soon as they landed, the soldiers disappeared. Tommy and Samuel didn't see another creature until nearly dawn, when the first tendrils of twilight began to creep over the now empty horizon.

They had stopped along the road, still staying in the ditch, when a single snapping branch made them lurch around with weapons raised. Tommy spoke, as Samuel felt like his throat was constricting itself. "Friend or foe?"

There was silence for an agonizing moment, and he spoke again. "Answer or we shoot! We've got an entire squad with us, and if you so much as..."

"Friend! Friend! Christ, don't shoot! Just lemme get out of this damn bush."

A moment later, a dark figure fell out of the woods, almost directly on top of the two. Samuel helped him up, brushing off the sticker-bush barbs from his shirt. "You alright? We thought you were..." He stopped, gaping at the creature in front of him.

Joseph's face lit up in a beaming grin. "Samuel, ye crafty ol' son of a bitch! I knew they wouldn't get ye!"

They hugged briefly, both glad to see eachother. "Are you alright?" Samuel said as they settled into the ditch. "Where did you go down?"

Joseph waved a paw in the opposite direction. "Couple miles that way, right in a big ol' sycamore. Took me damn near half the night to get loose, and I lost Bertha. What about you?"

Samuel told him the story, introducing Tommy as well. The two shook paws, exchanging names and the like. After a few minutes of idle chatter, Joseph looked at the dull light beginning to extinguish the night. "So, have either of ye got a plan?"

"We're going to the objective," Samuel said. "Tommy said he'll tag along. That hill is still a ways away."

Joseph stood, checking the pistol he clutched in one paw. "Then we best get movin', eh?"

The three set off, still cautious as ever. In the distance, the unmistakable sound of artillery was beginning to rumble. Occasionally, a long burst of machine gun fire or rifle shots would break the relative quiet, and more than once they heard the distinctive pop of mortars. But they remained unharmed, pressing on towards the abbey.

**Okay! First bit of real action, finally got the ball rolling. Hope you all enjoyed! **

**Also, I am considering changing the rating on this to T, for the sake of possible views. But I want a general concensus on that from my readers before doing it. Does the content seem safe enough for a T rating, or should I keep it M to be safe? There's isn't going to be any sexual content AT ALL in this story, as I actually have morals unlike many of the people on the internet, and the language and descriptive gore will be kept to a minimum if possible. **

**Let me know! **


	6. Chapter 6 Up in Smoke

Chapter six is up! This one was fun for me to write, as you will see why. I'm still surprised at myself. I had introduced Tommy on a whim, maybe for a buffer character or just fodder. Maybe I'll keep him around, maybe not. You'll just have to keep reading, won't you? :)

Anyway, as always R&R!

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Dawn's early light came filtering through the clouds, dull and gray. A heavy mist had settled over the fields and roads, reducing far-away buildings and landmarks to nothing but obscure shadows. It also left the Samuel, Joseph, and Tommy soaked to the bone. By the time they settled into a pine grove for a few minutes' rest, each of them was shivering with cold and dampness. They sat on a small hill, really just a mound of dirt, grass, and trees. On the reverse slope, just a short jaunt away, sat the tiny settlement they had seen on the map earlier. The village had obviously been there for many seasons; the buildings almost looked as if they had become part of the earth around them. The single road that ran through its center was just compacted dirt, with a few stones on each side to keep the rickety wagons on the straight and narrow.

Tommy pulled off his helmet, running a paw through the matted fur on his head. "Well, boys," he said after a moment of thinking. "That village is just on the other side of this little rise. They way I see it, we've got two options. The first is to just go around and not risk getting spotted. But if we do that, we won't get to the objective for at least two more days."

"Or?" Joseph said, contemplating the choice.

"Or we go straight through and hope there isn't any vermin set up in there. And if there is, we take 'em out before they can get on a radio and signal their friends a few miles away."

The trio sat in silence for a moment, each realizing that two days' travel would be too long. By then, the vermin would have a chance to reinforce. And since the remaining invasion force wouldn't reach them in time, landing far along the northern coast, there was only one option. Samuel could almost feel his heart twinge with dread at what was to come.

Joseph cleared his throat and made sure his handgun was loaded. "No sense layin' about getting fat and lazy, I s'pose. You lads up fer a little trip?"

Tommy and Samuel checked their rifles and grenades, making sure the latter were within easy reach. If it came down to a pitched fight, throwing one of the little bombs through a window may be the difference between living or walking into a gun nest.

When they had situated themselves, the three stood and made their way to the mound's crest. They lay behind a small stand of shrubs while Tommy retrieved his binoculars. Samuel couldn't help but notice. "Weren't those only issued to officers and artillery crew?"

Tommy grimaced slightly while looking through the lens. "Yeah, 'bout these. You don't want to know. Let's just say the beast who had 'em before wasn't in need of their services any time soon."

Samuel decided not to press the issue and fell silent. After a few moments, the mouse nodded briefly and stuffed the binoculars back into his chest pocket. "Doesn't look like there's any guards, but there's no guarantee. You two still up for it?" He looked at his two companions, a bit of hesitation showing on his face.

Both nodded, Joseph noticeably more confident than his friend. Tommy nodded and stood. "Let's go, boys! Over the top."

Samuel clamored to his feet, already breathing heavily as his heart began to pound. They bounded over the knoll's top, slipping and dodging between trees. He caught glimpses of the town between the trunks. Perhaps ten buildings in all, each one situated near the single road that ran through the settlement's center. A few hay carts, along with a single car, were all that caught his attention. He silently prayed that there weren't any vermin, that they had chosen another village. After all, this one seemed so small. What sensible creature would set up a base of operations here?

Sprinting as if the devil himself were chasing them, they got to the edge of the village, leaping over a short fence and taking cover behind a brick house. The only windows facing them were on the second story, and the backyard was clear when Joseph checked. A neat row of flowers were still arrayed along the edge of the house, their bright red and blue bulbs swaying slightly in the breeze. Samuel actually found himself trying to avoid stepping on the plants. For what reason, he wasn't sure.

Tommy leaned around the edge of the building, only exposing one side of his head to look down the street. There was nothing. No soldiers, no farmers, just the buildings and the occasional rooster. He tapped Samuel's helmet to get his attention. Pointing diagonally across the street, to the second house in the row of five arrayed along the path's edge, he motioned for Samuel to move there. "We'll cover you," he whispered as his friend readied himself. "Just set up on the corner and watch the houses on this side. Any vermin show up, take the shot."

Samuel forced himself to nod and swallow the bile rapidly climbing up in his throat. Tommy poked his head around one more time before waving his paw. "Go!"

Forcing his shaking legs to gain momentum, Samuel sprinted across the mud-spattered road. With each footfall, he was sure he could hear a rifle being loaded or a grenade pin being yanked from its place, ready to be thrown. He tried to focus on the corner of the house, staring intently at the brick wall. To him, that meant safety, it meant life. But with each passing second, he realized that it was just another chance for a vermin to set his sights and put a bullet in the squirrel's stomach. Samuel shut his eyes tightly and grit his teeth, forcing the thoughts out of his head. _Not now! _His consciousness screamed. _Just focus! Keep running!_

He almost crashed into the house, leaping the last few feet. Pushing the helmet back into its original position, Samuel tucked the rifle into his shoulder and swept his muzzle over the houses, searching desperately for any signs of life. But not a soul stirred, even as he let out a sigh of relief and gestured to Tommy. The mouse nodded to Joseph, and leapt into the street.

Samuel had just turned his attention back to the houses when he spotted the door opening. At first, he didn't realize what was happening. It was only when the sound of the creaking hinges met his ears did reality hit. His sights, seeming to move on their own, settled over the entranceway. To Samuel, it seemed as though the entire world had halted, except for this single door. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, finger twitching on the trigger.

The first thing he saw was a white shirt, stained with dirt and sweat. He almost relaxed, thinking that it must be a farmer coming outside to start his routine. But those hopes vanished like smoke as the creature stepped into view, wearing calf-high leather boots and gray woolen pants. The fox, for that was what the soldier was, stretched lazily and reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. As he lifted one to his mouth, his eyes locked onto the shape sitting across the road, holding a rifle. The cigarette dropped from his fingers, and he managed a brief mental epitaph. _We don't wear green uniforms._

Samuel's rifle barked, shattering the morning silence like a stone through glass. A short burst of flame spouted from the barrel, following the slug as it tore through the air. Samuel could only watch in fascinated horror as the fox suddenly yelped, grimacing and clutching his side where a red cloud had sprouted behind him. Actually managing to reach for his pistol with a shaking paw, the fox gave a final shuddering moan and collapsed into a puddle.

Whatever thoughts may have been racing through Samuel's head were broken by Tommy's shouting. The mouse seemed to be moving in slow motion, stopping in the road mid-stride and falling to a knee. His rifle was up in a split-second, although to Samuel it seemed like half a minute. He shouted something to Samuel, and to the squirrel's ringing ears sounded somewhat similar to, "Watch the houses! More coming!"

He hardly managed to recover in time to hear a short burst of fire, followed by a spatter of mud in his face. Samuel realized, terror roaring through his chest, that somebeast was shooting at him!

Before collapsing behind the wall for cover, he caught a glimpse of the shooter. It was another fox. He was in the same building the other had come out of, only this one had a submachine gun in his paws. The low, blatting sound of the gun was nearly drowned out by the exploding chunks of brick around Samuel's head. However, it was silenced abruptly with a few rounds from Joseph's pistol. The otter turned to him, taking cover behind a stone wall. "Move, get inside!"

Samuel's legs were moving before the phrase registered in his mind. The cottage door, just an arm's length away, buckled easily under his boot. Mud splattered on the clean wood floors as he stormed in, holding his rifle unsteadily and scanning the room briefly. The sounds of gunfire dulled only somewhat, and he involuntarily dove to the floor or under the nearby table each time a bullet came screeching in overhead. Finally, he made it to the window and poked his head over the sill.

There were already two more bodies sprawled in the road, clutching rifles. Muzzle flashes popped and spat lead around corners and through windows, as the remaining vermin stayed behind cover. He could hear Joseph yelling something, and suddenly a grenade detonated behind another wall, followed by a spray of dirt and agonized shriek.

Samuel could only stare as the firefight raged on. Chunks of brick and stone disappeared as bullets struck, and the perpetual cracking of rifles seemed to be the only sound discernable among the chaos. He forced his arms to move, raising the rifle to a shoulder. Hesitantly, he aimed at one of the windows and squeezed the trigger. The recoil hardly seemed to faze him. Samuel began to shoot into the houses, his terror ebbing away with each shot. By the time the empty clip ejected with a sharp pinging sound, he was baring his teeth and shouting, roaring at his foes. They were not going to kill him, he was going to kill them! These vermin were going to pay for what they had done to these innocent creatures, and he was the means with which to exact that toll.

His hands flew over the receiver, reloading the weapon and slamming the bolt home with a sharp _clack!_ As he raised the weapon once more, he realized with a start that shooting had stopped. A deathly, eerie silence had settled over the town. The last wisps of acrid-smelling smoke floated away in the wind like wraiths, and the only sound was the ringing in his ears.

A hissing noise, somehow louder than the perpetual buzzing noise, caught Samuel's attention. Tommy was standing behind one of the houses, motioning with his paws to provide cover while he checked the area. Samuel nodded, settling back into the rifle.

Tommy dashed from house to house, occasionally smashing out a window or kicking down a flimsy door to check inside. He inspected each body, making sure they were dead. After a few moments of tense silence, the all-clear was given. "We're done here, boys. You can come out."

Samuel let out a sigh of relief, sitting against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. It seemed as though his lungs were unable to completely fill with air, and his head was foggy from the adrenaline. When he had recovered somewhat, he stood back up and went outside, meeting his two companions.

"Everybeast alright?" Joseph asked, reloading his weapon.

The other two nodded after a moment of checking themselves for any wounds. "That was some nice shootin' there, Sammy." Joseph said with a wink. "Sure saved us a lot o' trouble."

He could only nod, unable to find the right words. His mind felt like it was in a haze, incapable of focusing on any one thing for long. Everything seemed to be spinning slightly and the sky had a strange tint to it, almost as if it were glowing.

Tommy ran a paw over his face, trying not to let the fatigue show. "I think we might wanna consider resting here. I checked around, and none of these vermin had a radio. So we can assume that unless a crow or magpie was about, we should be safe. Anybeast disagree?"

Neither of them did, so Tommy nodded decisively. "Right, then. Pick a house and stay there for..." he looked at his watch. "Three hours. Catch some sleep, I'll take first watch."

Joseph shook his head. "Naw, mate, I'll do it. Ye're both more tired than a one-legged stoat in a runnin' match. 'Sides, I used to stay up all the time at home."

Tommy agreed. "All right, if you want it. I'm off to catch a little shut-eye."

The two wandered off as Joseph set up his hide in a large wagon filled with hay.

Samuel stopped at the house where the fox lay dead, halfway in the door threshold. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the large pool of blood underneath the vermin, or the wound under one of his ribs. The fox had fallen on his back, thankfully with his eyes closed. But Samuel could imagine them staring into his own, begging and pleading for his life. They spoke on their own, even if he couldn't see them. He could almost imagine what the fox must have thought at the moment Samuel pulled the trigger.

_Why did you do this to me? _The icy blue orbs said, cutting into his heart with each word. _I had life, I had a family. I will never see them again, and they will never see me. Why did you have to do this? Why? Why? WHY?_

The sound of a door slamming shut jerked him out of the nightmarish vision. He shook his head, stepping off the porch and walking to the next house. There would be time to think later. Now, he just needed sleep.

But that was hard to come by as he lay on the thin, vermin-issue cot. The small cottage was just a single room, obviously neglected for months. But the smell of rotting fruit and moldy walls hardly registered in Samuel's brain. As he closed his eyes, gradually feeling a fitful sleep take over, he remembered the question he had asked himself before the jump. Would he be able to kill?

_Yes, _he thought bitterly. _I will. The question is, for how long?_


	7. Chapter 7 Salamandastron 52nd

New chapter! Let me say, this was a very interesting one to write. I've collaborated with d1996 and decided to put his OC in this story, as we're both WW2 nuts. Now before you get all excited, this is my very first time ever writing with someone else's character. So let me re-emphasize: IT IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING WITH AN OC! It may come out good, it may not. But the only way to really tell is to read, so do so! And review, while you're at it. I mean, you're already here, so why not?

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Samuel woke the next morning to a tapping on the window. Even before he was fully awake, his hands were reaching for his rifle. But as his eyes opened, it turned out to be Joseph rapping on the dusty pane. The otter smiled a greeting and strode off, probably to find breakfast.

After dousing his face with a relatively clean pale of water, Samuel wandered outside and into the morning sun. The rain clouds had gone the previous night, leaving a fresh tinge of wet grass and pine in the air. His mind drifted back to his home, a small town not much bigger than the one they were in now. He could see his father, getting ready for work, and his mother starting to tend to things around the house. She would always make fresh bread every few days, and the wonderful smell would fill the house. Samuel could almost see the plump loaves steaming on the table, with a jar of preserves and butter next to them.

His growling stomach wrenched the taunting images from his mind. Samuel sighed and wandered to the end of the road, where Tommy and Joseph were sharing a box of apples. The mouse tossed him one, nodding his good morning. "Eat up, just not too much. We're heading out today and I don't need you stopping at every other bush on the way."

Even Samuel laughed, taking a bite out of the undersized but delicious fruit. He washed it down with a swig from his canteen and looked up. "Think we'll make it today?"

Joseph nodded, tossing a whole apple into his cavern-like mouth. "We should, those vermin nasties permittin'."

They sat in quiet for a moment, contemplating the statement. As they had been told in the briefing, vermin presence grew in strength and size with every step towards the abbey. And the forest immediately surrounding the structure would be heavily mined, gunned, and pre-sighted for artillery. But each of them knew the importance of their mission. If the abbey couldn't be taken, other troops moving eastward would be utterly destroyed by artillery and air strikes.

Tommy threw away his last apple core and shouldered his rifle. "Well, let's just hope we aren't late to the party, huh, boys?"

Joseph racked the bolt on his new rifle, which he had taken along with pockets full of ammunition from one of the dead vermin. He hefted the weapon confidently, letting it rest on one shoulder. "Right then, let's go."

The three set off, marching down the single road that led through the town. Samuel couldn't help but glance at the bodies still left lying in the mud and grass. He tried not to stare at their faces, but found his eyes drawn to the hideous expressions of agony and terror. The vermin's last moments etched forever onto their corpses. A thought crossed his mind. _How many had families, sons and daughters and wives? How many of these creatures deserved to die?_

But his lamentations were cut brutally short by a dull rumbling in the distance. Each of them looked up, Tommy speaking first as they continued walking. "That's the landing forces, on the coast just north of Salamandastron. The rats must be hitting 'em with artillery fire." He shook his head. "I hope those guys can get up those beaches. Must be a living hell."

They fell silent, with just the roar of guns in the distance to break the thick, eerie silence. As was expected during this season, the air was wet and heavy with the scent of rain. Every pawstep was accompanied with the squish of their heavy boots in the mud, mingling with the occasional pitter-patter of rain on steel helmets. Damp, gray fog seemed to close around them with each passing step. Soon, none of them could see more than twenty or so feet in any direction. Samuel felt his finger drift towards the rifle's trigger. Something wasn't right, and they all felt it.

He stopped in his tracks and slid onto the side of the road as Tommy held up a paw, and then pointed to the large bank of trees bordering the trail. Samuel laid on the steep incline, ignoring the dampness beginning to creep in through his clothes. The world seemed to hold its breath as he aimed down the sights of his weapon, pointed up the hill. Every shadow was turning into a vermin soldier, ready to unleash a spray of fire into their exposed positions. The rumble of artillery in the distance seemed to be drifting closer with each passing second.

Samuel's heart nearly stopped in fright when the sounds of conversation suddenly broke the silence, hardly a stone's throw up the hill. His ears were straining to their limit, picking out each snapping branch and hushed remark.

"I told you chaps, the blinkin' road was the other way! Now we're lost, doomed to an eternity of wandering these bloomin' woods with not a scrap of scoff in sight!"

"It is my civic duty, old boyo, to inform you that it was _your _idea to head in a westward fashion."

"Oh, put a cork in it, you codhobblin' codger!"

"Codhobblin' codger? That's nothing, you fungus-footed frog-face!"

"Cheese-for-brains!"

"Chowder nose!"

A new voice suddenly burst through the tirade of insults. "The next one of you damned idiots that opens his mouth is goin' to get a helpin' of lead! We're on a blinkin' combat mission, chaps! Kindly treat it like one! Otherwise Helga here is goin' to have a new set of ears to mount on her fireplace."

"Sorry, old lad. Won't happen again, wot."

"Righto, Sargee."

Samuel had been so focused on the conversation that he hadn't noticed the precarious position he was lying in. The mud, slick as oil, shifted enough until he slid further into the ditch with a plop, breaking a large twig as well. Samuel had to stifle a scream as it snapped with a noise as loud as any gunshot to his ears.

The response was immediate. Three figures suddenly materialized out of the fog, dashing behind cover while leveling rifles. Samuel knelt in the ditch, bringing his own weapon up as Tommy and Joseph did likewise. Shouts were already ringing out, shattering the former silence like glass. "Drop the blinkin' weapons and raise yer paws!"

"Stop or we shoot! Stop!"

"Vermin cad! If you don't leggo of those boomsticks you're gonna be awful sorry!"

"Drop it! Drop it now or we shoot!"

"I'll shoot! I swear on me ol' grandma's grave, I will!"

A voice, much louder than all the others, broke through. "Everybeast, stand the blinkin' hell down! Lower arms, you flamin' idiots! Friendly!"

Samuel tore his eyes from the sights and glanced to his friends. Tommy sighed and nodded slowly, lowering his own weapon. The other two followed suit, albeit with a little more reluctance. The figures on the hill seemed to do the same, but it was harder to tell. For all they knew, the potential foes could just be waiting for this chance. Samuel tapped his stock nervously, shifting his eyes from one shadow to the next searching for a hidden rifleman or gun emplacement.

After a moment of tense, angry silence, the same voice spoke out again. "You lads with the woodlanders? Part of the resistance?"

Tommy let the comment stew for a bit before answering. "No, we're Sky-jumpers! And who the hell are you?"

There was a short, murmured conversation between the three or so voices up the hill. Then one of them slowly stood, paws raised. "We're friends, boyo! We're comin' down, and we can talk there!"

The three in the ditch waited with fingers on triggers as the shadows approached, rifles raised above their heads. Samuel stared into the mist for a moment before realizing, with a start, that they were hares! They tromped out of the woods, camouflaged almost perfectly in their foliage-hued uniforms and helmets festooned with brush and burlap. The rifles they carried were obviously lighter than Samuel's, and bolt-action. He couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship. _Salamandastron's finest. I can't imagine what sort of groupings those things get. _

Two of them looked like your average woodland hares. Gray and white-speckled fur, with bright almond eyes which never seemed to stay still. They were suddenly relaxed and jovial, slinging their rifles and retrieving packs of cigarettes.

But the third was one of complete mystery to Samuel. His fur was black as coal, from ear to paw. Unlike the others, his steel-gray eyes seemed to lock onto whatever they were staring at. Which, at that point, was Samuel. The squirrel shifted slightly, uncomfortable. Smiling somewhat lopsidedly, the hare extended a burly paw and helped him out of the ditch. "There you go, laddie. No use layin' in the mud if it ain't necessary, wot?"

Samuel murmured his thanks, noticing with a hint of shock that the rifle this hare carried was equipped with a scope. He was a sniper! His eyes flickered to the patch on the hare's shoulder, just below the SALAMANDASTRON 52nd patch. Two crossed rifles, and a bullet in the center. He could easily see that underneath the light-hearted and silly attitudes, these creatures were deadly, with little reservation against killing any beast that presented himself as a target.

However, the black-furred hair seemed friendly as he shook paws with Joseph and Tommy. "Nice to make your acquaintances, lads. Sergeant Damien Pangil, Salamandastron 52nd parachute regiment."

Tommy answered for his friends. "Tommy Mariano. The river dog is Joseph Collins, and that jumpy little squirrel is Samuel Melton. Don't mess with him, though. Kid's a crack shot." He punched Samuel in the shoulder good naturedly.

Sergeant Pangil nodded and gestured to his comrades. "Meet Privates Benedict and Theodore. Twins, if you'd believe it. Only got about half a brain 'twixt the two of 'em, but they get along. Oh, and I got the family too. Helga, Betsy, and Glenda all made the bally jump in one piece, wot. Not sure Helga's too happy about that bit, though," he said, whispering the last comment.

Samuel couldn't resist his curiosity. "Helga, Betsy, and Glenda? Who are they?"

He noticed out of the corner of his eye, the two privates making twirling motions next to their heads as Damien went on. "Why, my beloved applewife Helga, o'course!" Rummaging in a pocket, he produced a somewhat withered, shrunken apple.

Joseph scratched his head. "And how long have you been crazy, mind me askin'?"

Damien shrugged, stuffing the apple back into its place. "Oh, 'bout five months I'd wager. Woke up after a night on the town, with the bloomin' ring on my finger and another glued to her. Thought it wouldn't last, but who knew? Ain't any stronger love than ours, no sah!"

Samuel was fighting hard to control his laughter. "And Betsy and...Glenda?"

The hare patted his bayonet fondly. "Betsy here has gotten me out of more bloomin' scrapes than I wager to guess. And me ol' Glenda," he rubbed the rifle stock gently. "Ain't been without 'er since basic, although," he leaned in and whispered. "Helga isn't too pleased, let me tell you, laddie."

Tommy returned from a nearby bush, where he had to take a moment after listening to the hare's outrageous story. Still trying to stifle the laughter, he addressed the peculiar sergeant. "So, where did-haha-did you guys come in?"

One of the twins, Theodore evidently by the name on his lapel, snorted contemptuously. "Middle of bally nowhere. The three of us poor fellows were on the same craft, eh wot? Dropped right into a bloody creek."

Benedict nodded. "Aye. That we did. Still ain't got the water out of me ear yet.'

Samuel had a more constructive question. "Did you have the same objective as us? The abbey, I mean?"

Pangil shook his head. "Unfortunately not, my lad. But bein' as we're all lost as a three-legged frog in a square dance, seems bally sensible to stick together, wot?"

Samuel nodded. "Glad to hear it, we need all the troops we can get if we're going to take that hill."

Damien offered another of his crooked smiles. "Ah, yes! That bally hill's crawlin' with vermin, plenty of targets! Glenda and I here'll be right at home." He slapped the rifle stock fondly.

Samuel tried to hide his disgust. How could this hare enjoy killing other creatures? Only vermin could be like that. But considering the fact that this hare was married to an apple, and evidently had conversations with it along with his rifle, the apparent lack of sanity made up for it slightly.

Tommy had regained his composure enough to make a quick decision. "If you're up for a fight, then feel free to tag along. The last we heard before the jump, those rats have moved an entire division into the area and started combing the woods for any resistance. The way I see it we have two options. One, we can set up outside their perimeter and wait for our land forces to arrive, or see what kind of group we can scavenge up around here and fight."

One of Damien's eyes actually twitched excitedly. "What's this talk of waitin'? Ain't going to be any sort of bally laziness in my troop, no sah! Why, we'll get such a blinkin' army those rats'll surrender on the spot! 'Sides, you lads are sky-jumpers. I'm sure you can handle a few patrols now and again, wot?"

Joseph smiled ruefully. "I'm glad yore so enthused, mate. But the rest of us ain't invincible, so we gotta be smart about this. Rushin' in like a bunch of mad frogs is just gonna get us killed. We need to think this through. If we show up and there ain't any of our boys there, the six of us aren't goin' to do much on our own."

"Oh, bullocks! You just wait an' see, laddie buck! I'll bet you there's a bloomin' army of goodbeasts there right now, just waitin' for the likes of us to show up, wot?"

Samuel shook his head. "You seem awful eager to charge in there, guns blazing."

Damien gave him a wink. "Ain't no better way, lad."

Tommy checked his watch. "We'd best get moving, if we want to make any sort of good headway. Alright, staggered column down the road. I want at least twenty paces between each of you. Keep your head on a swivel and eyes peeled. The further we go in; the chances are that we'll get into contact. And I don't want to see six beasts wiped out by a single gun emplacement. Right, march!"

Samuel took a position near the center of the column, on the left side of the road. As they marched, he couldn't help but wonder about their hare allies, especially the one called Sergeant Pangil. How could a nutcase like him even get into the Salamandastron Corps, much less the 52nd parachute regiment? Of course, Samuel thought, he could always just be faking, just trying to have a bit of fun. But something in the beast's eyes said something to the contrary. And beneath the lighthearted silliness, he could tell that the hare was not one to cross, especially with his rifle.

He actually shuddered a bit, thinking about the ferret Karim back at base. If this hare was anything like him, then he felt sorry for the vermin. Samuel found it terrifying to think of being on the reverse end of that rifle, unable to move for fear of meeting a quick, bloody end. Or marching along one minute, and then laying in a muddy ditch the next, bleeding from a cavernous wound.

They marched for hours, slopping through the muddy path that wound its way through large groves of trees, empty plains and a few pastures. More than once, they dove into the nearest cover as the sound of distant machine guns reached their ears. Sometimes they would have to skirt around a farmhouse or shed for fear of encountering any vermin. By the time night fell, they were soaking wet, tense, and tired beyond comprehension.

Joseph was the first to voice their collective thought. "Mayhaps we best hole up somewhere for the night. Just somethin' to keep the rain and the vermin offa us."

His plan was readily agreed to. Even Sergeant Pangil, who had marched for hours without a hint of slowing, seemed eager to find shelter. "Abso-spiffin-lutely, lad. Sounds better than anythin' I've heard today, wot?"

The set their eyes to work, searching through the bleary darkness for anything they could use as cover. Samuel, whose keen eyes rarely missed a thing, quickly spotted a small road splitting off from the one they were on now. "Hey, look there," he said, pointing at the intersection.

Pangil squinted into the night and nodded. "Looks better than anything we've seen so far, wot? Benedict, Theodore, hook around through the trees there and give us a blinkin' peep, would you? I'll swing around the right and scope it out."

Tommy coughed, none too quietly. "And what about us?"

The coal-furred hair smiled again, causing the three to involuntarily cringe slightly. "Why, you're goin' up the blinkin' road, o' course! Can't do much just sitting there, wot?"

Joseph actually grinned a little, clicking off the rifle's safety. "That's what I like to hear. Just give us the word, mate, and we'll be off."

Pangil nodded, checking to make sure his rifle was loaded and ready for action. "When you hear an owl hoot, take off straight up that road and don't stop until you've reached cover. Got it?"

Tommy nodded. "Got it."

"Good. See you lads at the top, wot?"

The hare disappeared into the night, seeming to melt into the dark trees lining the sides of the road. Samuel, Tommy, and Joseph knelt in the ditch, tensely awaiting the signal. Their eyes relentlessly scanned the surrounding forest, fingers resting on their triggers.

The signal was louder than they thought it would be. All of them jumped, surprised that the hare could make such a noise. But they recovered quickly, scrambling out of the ditch and straight up the road. Samuel's stomach had shrunk to the size of a walnut, fearing what might be at the end of the path. Even though he knew the hares were covering them, the thought of walking into a trip-wired grenade or other booby trap terrified him.

They dashed up the small, cobble-stone lined road with boots thudding and squelching in the mud. The trees began to thin, and soon a small cottage came into view at the top of the small hill. At the edge of the property was a low, crumbling brick wall. The three collapsed behind it, catching their breath. Tommy tapped Samuel on the shoulder. "Think you can go in first? You're faster than me and this other old fogey."

Joseph ignored the jibe, nodding. "He's right, mate. We'll be right behind you. All you need to do is get that door open."

Samuel nodded shakily, adjusting his helmet. "Yeah, I can do it. Just stay here and cover me."

The mouse cocked an eyebrow. "You sure? We can clear it out, you know."

Samuel couldn't believe what he was doing, but pushed the fear and common sense out of the way, taking a deep breath to clear his head. "Yes, I'm sure. It's a small house, probably just one room. And if you two come running up, anybeast in there'll be able to open up. Just...just stay here and cover me."

Sighing, Tommy nodded and readied his rifle. "Alright, then. Just be careful and check your corners. I'm not burying you out here, kid."

He forced a smile, which came out as more of a grimace. "I'll be fine."

Tommy shook his head briefly, poking his head over the brick wall. "Go!" He hissed after a moment.

Samuel scrambled to his feet, leaping over the wall. He kept his eyes glued to the door, which for some odd reason looked black. _Probably just the shadows, _he said to calm himself. His boots pounded against the wet grass, which thankfully muffled the sound slightly. But as he began to close in, Samuel could hardly breathe for the fear choking him. All it would take it one rifle round or grenade on a trip wire, and it would all be over.

Those thoughts were suddenly the last thing on his mind as Samuel came to the door, almost slamming into it with his whole body. Skidding to a stop, he took a heaving breath before lifting his foot and slamming it against the doorframe.

The wood buckled like a dry piece of bark. Samuel saw the black, powdery dust and realized why. _It was burned. There was a fire. _

The door actually came off its hinges, falling into the room with a bang. Samuel rushed inside, swinging his rifle frantically. He had been right; the cottage was only one room. One half was badly burnt, mostly just ashes and skeletons of furniture. The right half was relatively unharmed, save for some smoke marks. Samuel swept the room one more time, sighing with relief. Lowering the rifle, he dropped his head to wipe away the sweat beading on his brow. That was when he saw the body.

He half-gagged, half-yelped as he staggered to the doorframe. His eyes remained locked on the charred, twisted skeleton. Samuel's heart was beating like a drum, and he could feel vomit beginning to creep up his throat. Forcing it down, he poked his head outside and took a breath, waving a paw to Tommy and Joseph as he did so. But even as he heard them rushing up the hill, he couldn't get the smell of burnt flesh out of his mouth. Trying to spit out the taste, he stopped his two friends at the door. "You might not want to go in there," he said weakly, swaying in the doorway. "It's bad."

Joseph helped his friend stand up as Tommy went inside. His footsteps on the floorboards were followed shortly by a muttered curse. After a minute or so of thumping, heaving, and disgusting sounds, he came back with a blanket, wrapped around the body. He tried to lay it down in the grass as respectfully as possible, but couldn't avoid turning his face away from the stench. "Poor bastard," he murmured. "Hell of a way to die."

Samuel was able to stay upright, but kept his gaze away from the bundle. "We can't stay here," he said, wiping his mouth. "It isn't safe."

"No need for that, laddie."

He spun around, reaching for his rifle. But it was just Pangil, with the two privates behind him. "Found a shed in the back," he said, ignoring the body. "Seems dry enough, wot?"

Tommy was already heading that way, as desperate as any of them to escape the grotesque scene that had played out in the cottage. "Right, then. I want three beasts on guard duty, two near the road and one guarding our rear. Samuel, you mind looking after the path?"

He shook his head. "Sounds fine by me. How long do you want us out?"

"Just three or so hours, wake us up when you're done and we'll switch out. Pangil, Benedict, you mind taking the other spots?"

Damien shook his head, retrieving his rifle from where it had been slung over one shoulder. "Not a problem at all, laddie buck. Private, you take the rear flank. Me and Sammy here'll take the bally road, just in case some sneaky rats try anything, wot?"

Samuel was a bit uneasy at being paired with the seemingly unstable hare, but had no time to protest as the remaining three disappeared, hurrying to find a good spot in the small shed. He sighed, hanging his head slightly. "Well, we should get moving." he said after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

The hare marched smartly alongside Samuel, a wide grin plastered on his face. "So, Joseph tells me you're a dead-eye shot, eh? Did well at the last village, wot?"

Samuel could almost feel the fur on the back of his neck rise. He tried to not let the anger show, but his response still came as a curt hiss. "Yes, I shot a fox. He was looking right at me."

Damien evidently didn't get the hint. "Remind me not to look at you the wrong way, laddie buck!" He said boisterously. "Shot him for lookin' at you, by Jove! That's a cold-hearted beast right there, hahaha!"

He suddenly noticed the pained expression starting to drift across Samuel's face. Damien's guffaws turned to an awkward cough, and he tried to whisper amends. "Sorry, lad, didn't know it was a..."

Samuel had already leaped into a small gulley alongside the road, beginning to settle himself in. Pangil hopped in alongside. Samuel was still glowering, staring intently down the road, even though his eyes were unfocused and distant, like he wasn't really concerned about the path. All he could see was the fox's body, frozen in place at the exact moment death had taken him. He began to wonder what had happened to the corpse. Had it been carried away by the birds, bit by bit? Or had his comrades found it, and were now seeking vengeance on the creatures who had slaughtered their friend? They would find Samuel, and make him suffer. He could only imagine what they would do.

His mind came back to the presence as Pangil cleared his throat quietly. "Listen, Samuel. I'm sorry about that. Really, I am. Ain't many creatures that can do such a thing and come out smilin', wot? Just didn't think it..."

"How do you do it?" Samuel's question, although whispered through clenched teeth, was clear enough. But Damien played along. Settling his chin on crossed paws, he sighed. "Do what?"

"Kill other creatures. How can you do such a thing? What if they have families, children of their own to come home to? How can you kill them and then act as if it's some sort of game?" Samuel was almost shouting, and had to catch himself by taking in a few breaths.

Pangil was silent for almost a solid minute, finally answering like somebeast had just asked him directions to the pub. "The way I see it, lad, is that it's either him or me. And if it ain't me, then how many of my bally friends is the cur going to get if I don't put 'im down? Believe me; he'd bloody well do it in a heartbeat if you let him. Survival of the fittest, lad."

Samuel was desperately searching his brain for a response, but none came. The hare was right, of course. He began to wonder about the fox. How many lives had he taken? What if Samuel hadn't shot him? He would be probably lying on that road, screaming and crying as he bled out in front of his friends.

He finally mustered a few words. "Do you ever...regret...doing it?"

"Not for a bloomin' second, lad."

"Have you ever..." Samuel couldn't finish the sentence, instead choosing to rub his freezing paws together while Damien waited patiently. "Ever what?"

He forced himself to speak, trying to keep his composure. "Do you ever see their faces? The beasts you've killed, I mean? It seems like every time I close my eyes, that fox is staring at me, asking why I did it."

Damien let out a muffled sigh. "No, never. Maybe it's just me, but it's never the ones I've gotten that bother the old noggin. It's the ones that got away that put me off. How many did he go out and kill that same day after I missed? Sometimes I can't even sleep, thinkin' about it."

Samuel found himself speaking before his mind could even finish the thought. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this."

Damien clapped him on the shoulder. "Now none of that, Sammy. Believe me, you'll come to see why we're here, what those blasted vermin have done to this place. Now you let yourself get some shuteye, I'm not hittin' the rack for a good long while."

The squirrel mumbled his thanks and set his head down, resting it on his crossed arms. Sleep came slowly, fitfully. Like everybeast, he couldn't remember actually falling asleep, only opening his eyes and finding himself in another world.

Despite the thick, heavy fog and darkness surrounding him, Samuel felt safe. He felt like he should be here, that there was a purpose for him in this spot. Staring in awe at this place, he suddenly noticed something in the wreaths of mist. His eyes strained, trying to pick out the shape. But it was impossible. The haze was too thick. And as he took a single step forward a powerful, yet comforting voice echoed through the dark.

_"Your journey will go far beyond Redwall, warrior. And though the path may take you through trials, sorrow, and anger, rest assured that your actions are done with the hearts and souls of many. Appreciate what still remains, and take nothing for granted. Soon you will learn the true meaning of being a hero, of being among the hallowed halls of the warrior."_

Samuel felt himself drifting through the dark expanse, drawn to the voice. But it seemed to be coming from everywhere! He searched desperately for its source. "Who are you?" He said, not expecting a response. "Where are you?"

_"All this you shall learn in time. But for now, awaken and join your comrades. Redwall awaits."_

A paw shook him and Samuel jolted awake, clutching his rifle in fear of what might be there. But it was just Tommy with a small grin etching around the corners of his mouth. "Sleeping on guard duty, eh? I'm goin' to PT you until your helmet pukes!"

Samuel laughed, recalling the phrase from boot camp. It was a favorite among the drill sergeants. He looked around, squinting into the darkness. "Where's Pangil? Wasn't he here?"

Tommy nodded, hoisting Samuel up by the paw. "Yep, I'm replacing him. Don't worry about it, though. We're all tired. Just go to the shed and catch some real shuteye."

"Thanks," Samuel said as he clamored up the short embankment. Guessing from how tired he still felt and the lack of morning dawn, it was most likely early morning. He stumbled about in the dark for a few moments before finding the shed full of snoring beasts. Lying down in a pile of hay, he racked his weary brain for any explanation of the strange dream. _Must be fatigue, _he thought to himself. _Dad used to say that you'd get loopy after a full night awake. _

He immediately wondered about what his parents were doing, somewhere far away. They were most likely sleeping, safe in their beds while Samuel lay curled on a pile of moist hay. Or maybe his father was just getting up, readying himself to take care of the morning flock of chickens. Samuel smiled to himself, remembering how the little creatures would cluck and peck at the ground around his feet. Now, all of that might as well have been on another planet.

Shutting his eyes, he resigned himself to another day of marching, fighting, and the distinct possibility of dying.


	8. Chapter 8 Ain't no skyfallers

For anyone who actually likes my stories (Which in that case I pity your souls.) here's chapter 8! This entire part was born out of spontaneous ideas that just kind of came and went at the time. I tried this one out, and it worked pretty well. Still getting used to writing with Pangil, but hopefully I'll get it somewhere.

**READ THIS BEFORE YOU KILL ME!**

**Yes, there is a tad bit of foul language a little later on in this chapter. You have been warned. If I get flame mail calling me too mature for this site and all of that malarkey, I'm coming down like the angry fist of God. **

But, enough of that. Here you go! And as always, R&R!

* * *

The entire troupe awoke only two hours later, roused by the early morning sunlight and Tommy's incessant shaking, kicking, and growling. The hares seemed unusually reluctant to get up. "Oh, have pity sir!" They moaned, rubbing their eyes. "Just a little while longer, I'm hardly fightin' fit!"

Samuel couldn't help but laugh at their antics. "What's wrong with them?" He said to Joseph. "Aren't they supposed to be the Badgerlord's elite?"

Joseph was smiling as well. "Bah, they're hares. Nothin' but giant feedbags. Always whinin' and complainin' if they don't have a full dinner sittin' in their fat stomachs." He snorted. "Salamandastron fighters my rudder."

His tactic worked wonders. "Feedbags?" Private Theodore leapt to his feet, staring hotly at the cheeky otter. "I say, old lad! Come off, there! I'll have you know we Salamandastron hares are bred for toughness. Blinkin' cream of the crop, don'cha know?"

Sergeant Pangil materialized seemingly out of nowhere, standing behind Samuel and Joseph. "If you two slackers don't get a bloody move on," He yelled, spurring the two into action. "I'll have yer guts fer garters! Come on, laddie buck! Pick those paws up, hup-two hup-two hup-two!"

Samuel and Joseph scrambled for their gear, too terrified of the hare to remind him of the differing uniforms. It was only after they were standing at smart attention did they realize that Pangil had been speaking to the other hares, who were now at a similar position. They stared awkwardly at each other as the sniper guffawed. "I say, lads! They sure do train 'em well wherever you come from, wot wot?"

Tommy grinned. "They sure do. Now, let's get moving before the sun gets too high. I don't want to be some artillery-beast's target practice because we got silhouetted on a hilltop."

The group set off back down the path and onto the road, in the same zigzag pattern as the day before. Soon all Samuel could hear was the tromping of their boots on the now-dry path. But he, along with the rest of the crew, began to notice a change around them. The trees were growing thicker and closer together, offering them no clear view of whatever might lay inside. Samuel felt the same tension as the previous day. Something was going to happen.

Tommy held up a clenched paw and they all halted, taking a knee. He whispered something to Damien who then turned to Theodore. The hare looked at Samuel over his shoulder. "He wants you up front."

Samuel tried to keep his stomach from rising into his throat as he bounded forward. Reaching Tommy, the mouse immediately pointed to the road ahead. "You see that, through the trees?" He whispered, suddenly paler than normal. Samuel squinted briefly, and then his eyes widened. It looked like a large chunk of stone, pale red in color. But the shape left little doubt. They had reached Redwall!

But his short rush of jubilation was cut short as Tommy continued. "That abbey is sitting smack-dab at the top of the hill, and there's at least a quarter mile of woods on either side of this path before we even get close. Past that is another hundred and fifty yards or so of open ground. I need you to do something, Sammy. I won't force you to, but it'd sure make things better."

He immediately felt an iron weight settle in his gut. Trying to swallow the dryness in his throat, he croaked out a response. "What do you want me to do?"

******************************

Five minutes later, Samuel found himself crawling face-down through the thick underbrush. Hardly daring to breathe, let alone move with any unneeded rapidity, he pulled himself along with just finger and claw tips. The only thing he could do to take his mind off the terror creeping into his chest was to meticulously go over the plan Tommy had laid out.

"It's simple," he had said, drawing a map in the dirt. It was the path, with the woods on each side and the abbey further up. "You'll act as scout, figuring out what our next move is. All I want you to do is find someplace to hide and watch the path. Don't shoot, don't yell, don't do anything. Just sit tight for an hour or so, and watch. After that, head back here and report. Good luck, Sammy."

_Why does he have to call me that? _Samuel asked himself as he moved a few more inches. More than anything, he just felt like getting angry at something. And since he couldn't get angry at the forest, Tommy was the next best thing.

_Sammy sounds like some kind of kid name! Besides, it's not like he's an officer. Hell, he's just a corporal. I'll be there in three months. At least if I live through this, I will._

As Samuel fumed inside his own head, his keen eyes spotted what looked like a suitable hiding spot. Just a stone's throw away, three logs covered with moss and long-since fallen, had come to rest on top of each other like a giant version of some child's play set. In-between the trunks was a small peephole, only about six inches wide and half that tall. But it offered a perfect view of the path and opposite bank of trees, which gradually sloped into a shallow incline. Samuel gritted his teeth and pushed one more time.

Almost fifteen minutes later, he sat behind the rotten, stinking logs. Samuel was soaked to the bone, having crawled through the wet underbrush. Insects were beginning to crawl over his still form, and his paws were sore from the constant pushing and pulling.

Thoroughly unpleased with the whole situation, Samuel had no option except to sit and watch until the allotted time had passed. He passed his eyes once more of the scene before him. Even after just a few minutes, the whole landscape was burned into his mind. The dirt path, worn by wagon wheels and thousands of feet, was directly in front of him, leading towards the abbey. He could see to the opposite end of the path, where the trees ended and the field began. The opposite bank of trees looked exactly the same as his: Huge furs and pines, with fallen logs and thick brush underpaw.

Samuel twitched his nose irritably as a beetle crawled over it. After another one decided to try the same trick and failed, Samuel began to get irritated. How important could this really be? After all, it was the middle of the day. No vehicles were passing; no troops were marching up and down the path, swarming over the woodlands. Samuel was fully intent on standing up, marching back to Tommy, and giving him a piece of his mind. However, as he began to muster the courage to do so, his eyes locked onto the path.

A full-sized vermin patrol, ten beasts in all, was strolling nonchalantly through the trees up ahead. They were joking and laughing, taking their time through the treacherous forest. Samuel's heart felt like it would stop as he stared with eyes wide as dinner plates. He was only able to see flickers of the vermin's gray and black uniforms through the trees, but it was enough. His ears suddenly picked up on the sounds of their conversation.

"Gah! That branch cut me ear! It's bleedin', see!"

"Maybe if yer lugs weren't so big..."

"Hahaha, that's a good 'un! Maybe I should come back there an' see what color yer insides are!"

"Shut up, da lot off yoo! Vee go back to dat Redvall place now, ya."

"Ah, we're just havin' a bit of fun. 'Sides, 'snot like anything happens in these woods anyway. We been wanderin' about fer days now, ain't seen hide nor hair o' them woodlanders since they first dropped in."

They began to materialize out of the tree line like ghosts, picking their way down the small slope. Samuel kept his breath locked tight inside his lungs as they started to assemble in the path, sitting down against their packs. He realized with horror that they were less than twenty yards from his pitifully small cover. If he was discovered, there was no force on earth that could save him.

One of the soldiers, an overweight, stubble-chinned rat sighed wearily and plopped down in the dirt. "Them woodlanders ain't goin' to be trying anything, not now anyways. Since their little landing fleet got blowed up on the northern coasts..."

Samuel felt as though somebeast had thrust a blade in between his ribs. The landing party was destroyed? That meant they were alone, trapped in enemy territory. Everything they had fought so hard for, sacrificed everything for, was in vain.

But he continued to listen as his companion, a flint-eyed weasel who was obviously some sort of leader, spoke. "Shut yer trap, Gobbo! There are still those sky-fallers or whatever they's called. The General doesn't want us to relax until they been rounded up and dealt with."

At that moment, it became too much for Samuel. He inhaled sharply, unable to hold his breath for any longer. He immediately clamped his jaw shut, but it was enough. Samuel's mind went blank in terror as one of the vermin looked up. "Hey," he said, genuinely surprised and pointing with a greasy claw. "There's a squirrel!"

Whatever he was going to say next was overwhelmed by a torrent of gunfire that seemed to shake the very earth around Samuel. The rat jerked sporadically, blood spraying out behind him and against the rocks. His comrades hardly had time to react, much less return fire. The entire path turned into a roiling mass of dust, smoke, and blood as the salvo continued. A grenade detonated in the midst of the carnage, sending up more dirt with a dull thumping sound. Finally, the last vermin fell and the guns fell silent as if a switch had been thrown.

Pulling the trembling paws away from his ears, Samuel could only gape at the sight below. All ten vermin were splayed on the path, one or two still rolling and shrieking in pain. But even that was preceded by the next thing he realized. The shots had come from behind him!

Something heavy landed on Samuel's back as he reached for the rifle. Grunting, wrestling, and grappling with whatever it was that was on his back, Samuel managed to roll over and get on top of it. His paw was raised in a clench fist as blood ran hot through his veins. But a sudden shout stopped him cold. "Hold it! Hold it! Buddy, what in hellgates are you doing?"

Craning his neck up, he was confronted by another squirrel, one much bigger and stronger than him. He was holding a small carbine, and wearing the same uniform as Samuel. The look in his emerald eyes was one of undoubted shock, but a hint of amusement as well. The faces of the seven or so beasts behind him were twisted in laughter. "I said; what the hell are you doing? I'm pretty sure Herington isn't too happy about being wailed on."

Samuel's gaze fell to whatever it was he was sitting on. A cheery-looking vole waved at him innocently with his free paw. "Mornin', friend! Sorry about that, didn't mean to frighten you."

Amid the chuckles that followed, Samuel stood and helped the vole to his feet. He shook the squirrel's outstretched paw after dusting himself off. "Samuel Melton, Private first class, 26th woodland parachute regiment."

"Sergeant Sagepaw. And yeah, before you say it may family is, in fact, from the old country. The name stuck, although I have no idea how."

"Hey Sarge," an otter piped up. "Not to belay the introductions or nothin', but shouldn't we be movin' out?"

The squirrel nodded. "Right. Jones, you and Cortez search those rats for anything good and then send the signal. We're going to need everybody to get ready on time if this thing is going to work out."

He turned back to Samuel as the others began to scurry about, checking the bodies of the vermin for any profitable intelligence. Or loot, for that matter. "You with your unit?"

Samuel smiled ruefully. "I wish. I came down about three days from here; our whole stick got blown all over the place. Found two guys along the way, along with three long patrol hares. They're from the 52nd, from what I got told."

Sagepaw whistled lowly. "Shit, the 52nd? Those bozos in command must have really messed this one up."

Samuel glanced down at his feet. "Like the landing force?"

"Don't believe everything you hear," the sergeant was smiling now. "Especially not from the rats. They made it, alright. Damn near got driven back into the sea, but they made it."

Before Samuel could press him for any more answers, the same otter as before strode up. "I'm not trying to be the spoil-sport 'ere, Sarge," he said, glancing at the beasts inspecting the vermin bodies. "But shouldn't we, ah, how do I say this...get the hell outta dodge before some of them vermin in the abbey get wise?"

The sergeant smiled and shook his head. "You're too paranoid, you know that Jones? Those vermin haven't poked their miserable heads over the walls in two days. But yeah, we should probably get everyone rallied up for tonight."

As the otter went to inform the rest of the group, Sagepaw looked back to Samuel. "You and your friends interested in a little fight?"

Samuel felt the same sinking feeling as before. "What sort of fight?" He said after a moment.


	9. Chapter 9 Backlit

**_READ THIS PLEASE!_**

I'm sure you are wondering, since many other people haven't been able to update, what exactly the F is going on. Well, I was wondering the same thing until last night. After some google-fu, I managed to pull up a little bit of help. Let's say you go to update your stories, going to the Publish tab, and My Stories from thereon. For the past weeks, this is what you would get something along the lines of "Server type 2" and "An error has occured while processing your request". Well, here's the deal. This is the URL on that error page:

.net/story/story_edit_?storyid=6659739/1/

You see in that URL how it says edit_. Well, here's what you do. Change that word 'property' to 'content', without the little quotation marks of course. This should for all intensive purposes fix it. But once again:

**_Read this please!_**

Maybe I'm just overreacting, but we may very well lose a good chunk of the Redwall FF community if this error persists. Yeah, it sounds stupid, but if nobody's able to update, you can see what will happen. I already sent an e-mail to , explaining both the problem and apparent solution. Hopefully they'll fix it. But if you feel the need to (And this has a huge disclaimer: I am NOT advocating the spamming, harassment, or otherwise drowning of the good support folks in e-mails) shoot the FF support staff a message. Once again, I'm not saying flood them with mail about "OMG TEH WEBSITEZ IZ NOT WORKING!11!1!" Just if this isn't fixed in a few more weeks or so, maybe think about it.

Anyway, now that that is out of the way, enjoy part 9 of Doors of Fire!

* * *

Joseph, Tommy and the long-patrol hares had heard the shots and were already moving by the time Samuel came across them. They seemed shocked to the see the squirrel alive, even more so unharmed. Sure that the roar of gunfire had been from the vermin, the small troupe was ready to charge in, guns blazing. But seeing their friend breathing and unscathed was astonishing, at least until he introduced them to Sergeant Sagepaw and his mish-mash of troops.

They sat in foxholes that had been dug by vermin, eating vermin rations of dried pear and celery, and some smoking vermin cigarettes. The food was bad, fires were forbidden, and it looked like rain was on the horizon, but Samuel was inexplicably happy. Listening to Jones, Sagepaw's second-in-command, he related the story to Samuel and his friends.

"See," he said after tearing off a chunk of tough celery. "We managed to catch those rats so off guard that they just fell apart as soon as they 'eard of us landing. Most o' Sagepaw's ship managed to stay together, but came down off-target. We crashed right smack-center in these here woods, scared the vermin so bad they left most of their gear and abandoned their positions." He smiled, shaking the empty ration can. "Some of 'em stuck around, but most turned tail and ran straight into the abbey. That's where they've been fer two days now."

"So let me get this straight," Pangil seemed flabbergasted by the whole situation. "You've got the blinkin' vermin trapped in their fort, unable to move, and you haven't attacked yet? Jolly old blunder if you ask me, bucko."

Jones tapped his nose, like he knew a secret that the hare didn't. "See, that there's the problem. They've got more beasts and weapons than we do, and they've got the better position. That is, until tonight."

"And what happens then, mind me askin'?"

"We take the abbey." They all jumped at the sudden appearance of Sagepaw, who seemed to have appeared out of the night itself. He knelt by the foxhole, sitting on his haunches and whispering in hushed tones. "Send in small teams under the cover of night while the rest provide a diversion. We know there can't be more than a platoon of rats in there, probably less. We got 'em pretty good after dropping in."

He looked up at Damien. "Sergeant Pangil, I understand you're a marksman?"

The hare smiled, hefting his rifle. "Sure as the blinkin' sunrise. In need of my services, wot?"

Sagepaw allowed himself a small grin. "Absolutely. The vermin keep wall guards posted at all times, some of them on machine guns. We need those gun posts eliminated. If we get inside and those emplacements are still there, we're done for. Can you do it?"

He feigned shock, holding a paw over his chest. "Can I do it? Of course I can bloody well do it! You just tell the honorable Sergeant Damien Pangil where the rascals are at, and Glenda here'll take care of it."

Ignoring the strange remark, the squirrel nodded in approval. "Good. I'll send for you when it's about to start. The rest of you, same rule applies. When we get set up, I want you to hammer the ever-loving beeswax out of that place. I want fire on the north and west walls, keep their attention. But be careful. Me and the entrance parties are going to be on the opposite wall side."

Samuel frowned. "You're going with them, sergeant?"

"'Course I am," the squirrel said light-heartedly, as if somebeast had asked him if he was accompanying the local band on their parade. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

And with that he was gone, melting off to inform the remaining soldiers. Samuel turned back to his friends and shook his head. "He's going to get himself killed."

"Not at all, laddie buck!" Pangil leaned forward. "Ain't no better leader than the one who leads from the front. I say, that bit of pear looks awful bruised. Why don't I take it off your paws, save you the trouble of..."

Samuel swallowed the chunk of fruit in the blink of an eye. "Oh no, I've heard about you hares. Walking stomachs, my dad used to say."

Tommy chuckled. "Yep, my folks said the same thing. 'When you have your own place', they told me, 'never have a hare over for the house-warming party. He'll put you into more debt than a bad mortgage on food costs alone.'"

He glanced up from the mess tin at Joseph. "What about your folks? They tell you anything before you shipped off?"

The otter grinned. "I tell ya, my ol' dad wasn't too happy about me bein' an army otter. Kept sayin' it wasn't natural, fer our kind to be jumpin' out of the skies. Told me to join the navy like a normal beast." He laughed slightly at the memory. "I used to get sick on fishin' trips, sittin' on a quiet lake. Couldn't stand the idea of bein' on a huge ship, in the middle of the ocean. Scares the fur right offa me." He raised his eyes. "How 'bout you, Sammy?"

Samuel shrugged, staring into his canteen cup. "My dad was in the last war, he got wounded fighting in the Northlands and came back home to be a farmer. Whenever I asked about it, he would just look away and say that it was...a bad time. Before I went off to basic, all he told me was to be careful and to not give up. My mom kept crying, and I heard her tell dad that...that she felt like I wouldn't be coming home."

Everybeast was silent, the only sounds coming from a few distant firefights chattering over the horizon. Samuel kept his head down, trying to force back the tears. He could still see his father's face, looking like he was watching his son march off to his own death. The hollow, desperate look in his eyes had been enough to freeze Samuel in place for a few moments. Finally, he blinked the tears away and looked back up. "I really hope she was wrong."

Joseph wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Now, none o' that." He rapped him on the helmet lightly. "We're all gonna be fine, right lads?"

The rest of them agreed heartily, each trying to look more eager than the last. "Of course, m'lad!" Damien said, tossing his helmet into the air and catching it deftly. "Why, I'll bet you those rotten ol' vermin will surrender at the very sight of us, wot wot?"

Tommy made a show of licking his bayonet. "I feel sorry for those vermin! When we're done tonight, they'll be wishing they never saw us!"

But their show of bravado soon faded, leaving them in the suffocating dark and quiet of night. Samuel found himself clutching the cross necklace again, running his fingers over the ancient wood. His father had worn this once, and had given it to his son the day be left. Choking back tears, the aging squirrel had clasped Samuel's paw tightly. "For when you don't know where to turn," he had said, almost sobbing the words.

Now Samuel stared into the forest ahead of him, watching as soldiers readied themselves for what was to come. Some were cleaning and checking weapons, while others tried to find space for an extra grenade or clip of ammunition. Sergeant Sagepaw caught his gaze and offered him a brief nod. He picked up his rifle and whistled lowly, just loud enough for those in the vicinity to hear.

"Listen up," he half-whispered, half-shouted into the darkness. "For those of you on the raiding party, assemble on me. The rest of you, find a position where I told you to and get set up. When you see a red flare, move up one squad at a time and get inside so we can clear it out. There are more buildings once we're in, and we'll need everybeast to clear them out. Any questions?"

There were no words spoken as Sagepaw glanced over the collection of beasts, each no more than a silhouette in the night. "Right, then." He raised a paw. "Raiding party, with me. The rest of you, keep up the fire and wait for the flare. Marksmen, to your positions."

Samuel watched as a number of beasts stood and seemed to melt into the woods, Damien being one of them. As he watched the departing, a certain beast stood out. He only managed to catch a glimpse of him before the creature slunk off into the trees, but Samuel could have sworn it was the sniper from his unit, Karim! Now he really felt sorry for the vermin.

The remaining beasts, about thirty in all, settled back into their foxholes. Samuel jumped into his and checked his rifle for the countless time and began checking his ammunition supplies. Twelve clips in his pockets and belt pouches, and one in the weapon. One hundred and four rounds total. He had a sinking feeling that he may use it all.

His eyes shifted to the abbey. Dark against the cloudy night sky, with only a few lights visible through the shuttered windows. The sandstone walls were dulled with age, but still stood strong and resilient. Although they were invisible at the time, Samuel knew that there were countless vermin manning machine gun posts and rifle slits running along the walls and battlements. Even at this distance, he could hear distant chatter and radio signals. Samuel tried to imagine being one of them, trapped in the fortress, desperate for any sort of help or comfort.

He forced the thoughts out of his mind, remembering the cottage they had come across a few days prior. The vermin had done that, they had killed an innocent creature and burned their home! His paws gripped the rifle stock tighter. They shouldn't be here, they shouldn't be doing this. And it was his job to remove them by any means necessary.

A whisper came down the line of creatures lining the edge of the forest. Joseph, who was in the nearest foxhole to Samuel's left, leaned over. "Wait for the whistle, and open fire. Pass it along." His eyes were deadly serious, but Samuel could still see a twinkle of the youthful eagerness that he had come to know in his friend. He said a silent prayer, asking that they would both be alive by the next morning.

Samuel did so, whispering to Tommy. The mouse nodded once and carried the message along. Soon, everything was silent once more. Samuel shivered as a single gust of wind shook the trees, rattling the empty branches like bones. Somebeast cleared his throat, but even that was lost in the darkness. Samuel kept his rifle sitting on the edge of his foxhole, leaning the barrel on his pack to maintain a steady aim. His sights, almost invisible in the night, were trained near the top of the abbey walls. As his heart began to pound, Samuel forced himself to take a few breaths. Now was not the time for panic.

The whistle broke through the eerie stillness, shrieking like a dying creature. As it stopped only a second later, the forest seemed to freeze. Even the wind seemed to halt. Samuel could only stare at the abbey walls, dark against the night sky. He had time for a single, somewhat absurd question. _I wonder if they'll be here by tomorrow?_

And then the world exploded.

The salvo of gunfire was enough to make Samuel yelp, accidentally pulling the trigger on his rifle before he was ready. Flame lit up the tree line, revealing the face of each beast for just a split second, like a camera flash. The forest itself seemed to shake and recoil from the sound, which seemed to be coming from an artillery piece instead of rifles. Submachine guns, letting go with their chattering bursts, were almost drowned out by the constant banging and snapping of rifles, like a tree limb snapping. Smoke drifted off the line like a ghost as the wisps rose and mingled together in the sky.

Samuel pulled his trigger again, only this time he was sure of the target. As he felt the familiar bucking motion of the gun, it was as if his fears disappeared. There was no apprehension, no doubt, no foreboding of his death. Nothing remained but his rifle, sights, and the abbey wall straight ahead. The world was drowned out to a dull roar as he worked, breathing slowly and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. One shot every four beats, as consistent and measured as clockwork. He allowed the rifle to roll gently into his shoulder with each pull of the trigger, welcoming the hard jolt and smell of burnt powder drifting up his nostrils. Time had slowed to a crawl, but Samuel hardly noticed. All he cared about was the weapon in his paws and the target far ahead. His keen eyes noticed movement on the wall tops, and his paws seemed to respond without thought. The gunfire was constant now, lighting up the scene in front of him with every shot. This was what he was meant to do, this was his world now. It was all he needed; a rifle and a target.

The empty clip ejected with its characteristic _ping! _Instinctively, from hours and hours of training, Samuel dropped to a knee in his foxhole and began reloading the weapon with practiced calm. Last week he would have fumbled and most likely dropped the ammunition, or the weapon for that matter. Now, it was as fluid as the smoke wafting into the air. His paws flew over the receiver and action, slamming the bolt shut with a loud snap. Taking a deep breath, Samuel stood back up and lifted his weapon.

He flinched as the dirt exploded in front of him, sending clods and small rocks flying at him. Dropping back into the hole and spitting out chunks of soil, he could just barely make out the sound of vermin machine guns coming from atop the hill. Their stream of gunfire, like the tone of an angry buzz-saw, was followed shortly by shouts from across the line. Samuel heard somebeast shouting over the din, but was suddenly cut off by another burst, which was met with a shrieking cry of agony. Samuel gritted his teeth and swore under his breath. _They are _not _going to do this to us! _He shouted inside his head. _I'm not going to let them._

A thought immediately popped into his head. "Cover!" He shouted; his throat raw and dry, as soon as there came a split-second interlude from the vermin guns. "Give me cover! I'm getting this bastard!"

Nobeast responded immediately, and Samuel actually thought for as terrifying moment that the entire line had been cut down. But he smiled as a hail of gunfire erupted from their ranks, enough to quell the gun position on the abbey. Samuel spat the taste of sulfur out of his mouth and heaved himself up, leveling the gun once more. His eyes searched frantically for the gun position as the fire continued, pock-marking the walls with brief clouds of dust and stone wherever a round struck. Samuel's heart sank as he realized that the gunner was nowhere to be seen. Not on the walls themselves, not in the battlements, not...but then something appeared in the hail of dust. A perfect figure, standing just in front of a lit window. Even at this distance, he could see the machine gun and the vermin behind it, flinching and ducking every time a bullet strayed close to his position.

Samuel was dumb-struck. Were these vermin really stupid enough to place their gun right in front of a backlit window? He was a perfect target! He actually shrugged to himself as the sights fell on the unfortunate vermin. If they were going to make this sort of mistake, then he would take full advantage. There was no doubt as his finger settled on the trigger, starting to pull the metal instrument back. He suddenly felt a ping of remorse, realizing that the vermin had no idea of what was about to happen. _Forgive me for this. _

As soon as his rifle barked, there was no questioning whether or not the round would hit. It was something he could feel, something that went far beyond simple marksmanship. Samuel watched as the figure in front of the window jerked, reaching up to his chest. But then he went limp, falling to the side along with the gun. A shout of jubilation went up from the forest, followed by jeers and shots aimed at the retreating vermin.

Samuel lowered his rifle slightly, staring at the wall. He closed his eyes for just a moment, forcing back mental images of the village. _Not now,_ he thought. _This was different. _Looking back up, he was astonished to find that the gunfire had settled to a dull clatter inside the abbey, occasionally interrupted with the thump of a grenade or scream. Samuel felt his muscles tense, knowing what was coming next.

The flare went up with a dull pop, burning scarlet against the coal-dark night. All the beasts watched as it soared, finally beginning its descent leaving a trail of red smoke behind it. Not a single creature moved, watching with baited breath as the battle continued to rage on inside the abbey. After a moment of unbearable quiet, Samuel heard a short cry from just a few foxholes down. He looked to see a mouse, holding a rifle above his head and turning to face them. "Come on, lads!" He shouted, waving towards the abbey. "We're not getting anything done just sitting here! Eulaliaaa!"

A roar went up from the trees as they leaped from their foxholes, fixing bayonets and shouting war cries. Samuel found himself alongside Joseph, sprinting directly at the abbey. Their boots thundered like a stampede, drowned out by the continuous shouts. It was for this reason that almost none of them heard the distant pops until it was too late.

The first mortar landed far behind them, in the trees. At first, it hardly registered with Samuel. Assuming it was from inside the abbey, he continued the charge along with everybeast. But the next round landed almost directly in their center, sending up a geyser of smoke and dirt. Samuel turned his head slightly, slipping a bit on the wet grass and falling. This probably saved his life, as the next explosion occurred so closely that if he had been standing up, the shrapnel would have taken his head off. Instead it felt as though he had been punched in the stomach, driving the air from his lungs. All he was capable of was to hold his helmet with one paw and clutch the ground as if it meant life itself.

But his hopes of staying huddled on the ground were dashed as somebeast grabbed him by the collar, dragging Samuel to his feet. He caught a glimpse of Joseph, teeth bared and shouting. "They've got us zeroed!" The otter could hardly scream loud enough to be heard over the whistle and thump of the mortars. "We need to move!"

As Samuel got his feet, and senses, back under him, he realized what the otter meant. The vermin wouldn't dare move their guns close enough to hit the abbey itself. But this field was open, with no spot of cover for over two hundred yards. That meant their only chance for survival meant under the abbey walls themselves.

The two clamored up the hill, which banked up sharply for the last few yards. By the time they had reached the relative safety of the walls, both were sweating and gasping for breath. Samuel wiped the mix of sweat and dirt away from his eyes as more joined them, still running from the mortars. He could make out the distinct shapes of bodies, lying broken and twisted in the open field. Turning away, he began to follow Joseph and the others towards the abbey gate.

Even from their short briefing of the abbey's layout, Samuel could tell that they were at the main gate. This sent a jolt of fear straight up his spine. If there were still any vermin manning the walls or guard towers, they would be able to fire straight down into the group as they rushed in. Not to mention that the main abbey building was facing directly towards the gate, and was most likely the vermin's only remaining defensive position. But Samuel realized that it was too late for any of that as they rushed in, weapons raised.

He nearly fired as a dark figure moved towards them, but realized that it was one of their own. The otter, who Samuel realized was Sagepaw's friend Jones, was wearing a bandage around one eye and limping slightly. But the smile on his face was enough to tell the story. "Ahoy, mates!" He shouted, waving a paw. "I see you made it in alright?"

Samuel let out a sigh. "Most of us. We took mortar fire on the way in, lost a few back in the field." Even he realized how different his actions were. If this had taken place three days before, the squirrel would have been weeping openly or curled up in a ball back in his foxhole.

Jones shook his head. "Sorry to 'ear that, mate. But ye'll be happy to know that we're nearly done 'ere. Some o' the vermin are still hidin' in the dormitories like the cowards they are. Just cleanin' house now."

As if to emphasize his point, there was a sudden explosion, louder than any grenade, and a sudden rush of automatic fire. Jones flinched slightly, grinning a bit. "Guess the second charge did the job. We tried one already on the doors, but those rats had stacked beds and the like behind 'em. Turned the timbers to matchsticks, 's how I got these." He motioned to the bandage and leg.

Smoke began to rise from the other side of the sandstone building, along with shouts from what sounded like the sky-jumpers. The shooting had almost completely stopped, except for the occasional burp from a submachine gun. Samuel rested his weapon in the crook of his elbows. "Is Sagepaw alright?" he asked tentatively, voicing the question they all dreaded to ask.

The otter waved a paw dismissively. "Ah, the ol' Sarge is just fine. Got cut on some glass jumpin' through a window, but e'll be alright. Speakin' of the devil himself..."

Sagepaw appeared from around the main abbey building, reloading his rifle. He saw the group standing by the doors and smiled. "You don't know how glad I am to see you," he said when they met half-way across the slightly scorched lawn. "Saw the flare, I take it?"

One of their group, the only hare, nodded. "That we did, wot wot? Took some bloody awful mortar fire comin' across the field, but nothing too bad."

A frown came over the squirrel's features. "Mortars, huh? Damn, I was hoping we wouldn't have to deal with those. We'll have to find them before long. I don't want to have rounds coming in through the roof while we're trying to eat."

That caught Samuel's attention. As the rest of the group dispersed to try and find their respective squads, he strode up to Sagepaw. "Did we lose anybody in the assault?" He asked, bracing himself for the answer.

He sighed, nodding regretfully. "Yeah. Three of my guys and one of the Long Patrol hares. Theodore, I think. He, ah...he was the first one into the main building. Those rat bastards were waiting for us. At least it was...it was quick for him." He swore under his breath, visibly shaking himself to force back the emotion until later. "Anyway, the vermin got off a lot worse than us. We only took ten or so prisoners, the rest are dead. I've got to hand it to you and your guys, Samuel. If you hadn't been on the line, there's no way we would have gotten it done. Those rats didn't even notice us until it was too late; they were so focused on you."

Samuel cocked his head slightly. "My guys? I'm just a PFC, sergeant. I'm not a leader."

Sagepaw clapped him on the shoulder, leading him towards the main building. "Oh, you will be. I can tell that much. As soon as this mess gets organized and the officers come around, I'm putting in a recommendation for your promotion to corporal."

"Thanks, sergeant. I hope I can..." He had to stop, staring in astonished horror at the scene in front of him. Countless vermin bodies lay strewn in the grass and up the dormitory stairs. Soldiers strolled back and forth, checking the corpses for anything worth having. Thick, oily smoke poured from the broken door frame, where the only thing that remained of the doors themselves was the bronze hinges.

"It took two full satchel charges to get that done," Sagepaw said under his breath. "They kept shooting at us from the upper windows. It was kind of strange, though. We never got any fire from the very top floor, the infirmary."

The sound of breaking glass was shortly followed by the clatter of a rock landing on the cobble-stone path. Sagepaw jumped a little, but recovered quickly and picked out the stone lying among the blood and bodies, trying to avoid stepping on anything unpleasant. There was a piece of paper wrapped around the stone, attached with some twine. Slitting the string, he removed the paper and examined it. Suddenly, he was stuffing it into a pocket and grabbing Samuel by the shirt. "Come on, we've got to move!" He nearly shouted, motioning for a few more soldiers to follow as well.

Samuel knew better to question as they rushed through the bottom floor of the dormitories. More vermin were lying on the floor and near makeshift barricades, some nearly unrecognizable. The explosives had done more than open the doors. Samuel and the group of five or so soldiers ran pell-mell up the stairs, not stopping until they had reached the infirmary doors, panting and sweating. Sagepaw pounded a fist on the door, shouting through the wood. "Is anybeast in there? We're woodlanders!"

A murmured reply came through the door which Samuel couldn't hear. But Sagepaw nodded to himself and stood away from the door. "Get back, you guys. They're coming out."

The door creaked open slightly, just enough for an ancient-looking mouse to poke his gray-furred head out. "Is it safe?" He asked in a high-pitched, warbling tone.

Sagepaw gestured to the stairs. "As safe as it'll get, sir. You might want to cover some of the little ones' eyes, though. It got pretty, uh...bad down there. But it's safe."

The mouse nodded gratefully, blinking away tears. "A shame it has come to such things, but thank you, for everything. We'll be down in just a moment." He disappeared back inside the room, where the sounds of conversation were growing rapidly.

Samuel glanced at the sergeant curiously. "Who are they?"

"Most of them were prisoners," he said, disgusted. "The vermin took over the abbey and forced all the beasts into labor. They were trapped up here during the firefight, which was probably for the better."

The doors swung open, allowing the crowd of beasts inside the infirmary to flood down the stairs. Samuel and the other soldiers tried to keep things orderly as best as possible, but it was hard to do when the crowd outnumbered them ten to one. Occasionally, one of them would appear out of the crowd and hug them, crying tears of joy and shaking paws vigorously. They tried to be as friendly as possible, but kept the former prisoners moving.

As the crowd thinned to a trickle, Samuel noticed something strange. Four creatures, bearing what appeared to be a rolled-up flag between them. Most of these creatures, like a few of the ones in the crowd, were wearing a pale-brown robe, which Samuel had been told was the traditional wear of abbey-dwellers. The procession bore their parcel carefully, and with obvious reverence. The last creature came out of the infirmary; it was the mouse who had spoken to them before. He was dressed in the same robe as the others, but was obviously more important.

"He's the father abbot." Sagepaw leaned over to whisper to Samuel. "Kind of like a king, but not so...powerful. Still has quite a bit of sway, though. Don't mess this up."

Samuel nodded to himself as the mouse approached, pulling his paws out from folded sleeves and hugging all of the soldiers. "Thank you, my friends," he said after completing the gesture. "There are no words to express our gratitude. We have seen so much hardship that seeing a friendly face is almost...foreign. But now that you are here, things will be different. We will rebuild, and things will change. On behalf of all who enter our doors, welcome to Redwall Abbey."

"Thank you, father..." Samuel immediately felt his cheeks redden. He didn't even know the abbot's name!

The spectacle-wearing mouse laughed, holding his belly. "Oh, forgive me! I haven't even made any proper introductions. My name is Abbot Carmen. Please, feel free to make yourselves at home. I'm sure the kitchen workers will have the great hall up and running again and we have beds if you need rest. I can imagine anybeast in your spirit must, after what you have done to free us."

"Thank you, father Carmen," Sagepaw said, slinging his rifle. "But there's still quite a bit to do, unfortunately. But as soon as we're done, I promise we'll take you up on your offer."

Nodding understandingly, father Carmen followed them down the steps. "Of course, I understand. A warrior's day is never done, it was once said."

They wandered past a wide hallway, ending with a solid stone wall. Samuel stopped, looking at the creatures standing at the wall. They were unfurling something, trying to set it up on some pegs. It was hard to tell what it was in the darkness, but he was immediately curious at what it might be. "If you don't mind me asking, father, what is that over there?" Samuel said, pointing down the hall.

Squinting, the mouse made a humming sound. "Ah, that is the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. He founded our abbey countless seasons ago, after freeing the woodlands of a wildcat scourge. He has been our protector ever since. Well, ever since..." his voice trailed off, and Samuel could see tears starting to pool in the mouse's eyes.

Sagepaw placed a comforting paw on the abbot's shoulder. "Everything will be alright, father Carmen. You have my word on that."

Samuel nodded. "He's right. We've got a whole invasion force pressing eastward, and we'll finally push the vermin out of here for good."

They continued on, Abbot Carmen giving them a short tour of the enormous abbey. The two squirrels were surprised to see the abbey's inhabitants already cleaning up, getting rid of vermin banners, insignia, and equipment. The abbot took them past what was called Great Hall, which the vermin had been using as a strategic planning center. Dozens, if not hundreds of maps and diagrams littered the floor, ready to be gathered for disposal or storage.

Sagepaw stopped a middle-aged mouse, carrying a barrow full of rifles. "I'd keep those around," he said gravely. "Just in case, you know?"

The abbot nodded to the creature's inquisitive look. "Until we can be sure of our safety," he said, "I think it would be wise to maintain a certain level of security. I'm sure Sergeant Sagepaw and Private Melton here would agree."

The two nodded in near unison, watching as the mouse shrugged and tottered off to place the weapons back in storage. "I hope I'm not offending you by asking this question, father," The sergeant said, "but how many beasts here can actually wield a rifle?"

Carmen shook his head as they continued walking. "Not many, I'm sorry to say. Some of the otters, and a few squirrels maybe. But most who live here, even if they are not part of our order, have dedicated themselves to peace. We are not a war-savvy group, you must understand."

Sagepaw nodded. "Yes, forgive me. It's just a matter of your own safety. If we offered, and if you allowed it, do you think anybeast here would be willing to learn how to fight?"

"It is a necessary evil, I suppose. You have my permission, Sergeant. I'm sure there would be more than a few willing volunteers, after the horrors they have witnessed." He actually shivered, trying to shake himself of the thought.

They made it back to the dormitories, where once again they were astonished by the Redwallers' enthusiasm and dedication. The entire hall, except for a few chipped stones and the obvious missing doors, was clean. A few beasts were still mopping and wiping up the floor, chattering ceaselessly. More than once Samuel was surprised by a hug and tearful thank-you from one of the many creatures. He smiled as a young mouse saluted smartly, returning the gesture. The child, who the father said were called dibbuns at Redwall, marched off with a mop in imitation of a rifle.

One of the robe-wearing mice walked up to the abbot and bowed slightly. "The Great Hall and cavern hole are clean, father Abbot. It'll be a while before they're fully repaired, but I think they'll do for now."

The abbot thanked him and turned to the two soldiers. "If you and your men have the time, Sergeant, we will have lunch ready in just a few minutes. We would be honored if you would join us."

Sagepaw glanced at Samuel. "Oh, I suppose we could," he said, smiling.


	10. Chapter 10 Forgotten dead

Well, as most of you can probably see, the update feature is once again up and running! Let me personally thank the support staff, who probably spent quite a bit of their valuable time to help us out.

Alright, part 10! Now, a note from me. Once again: PLEASE READ THIS!

I changed Penny (First chapter, go look it up) from a mouse to a squirrel. The reasoning is down below, as you will see when you read this chapter. My plan had been to introduce another new character, but then I thought to myself "Patchy, you've introduced Tommy, Sagepaw, Jones, Abbot Carmen, and dozens of other characters on a completely random basis. Settle down, and go back to what you already have." So that's what I did. So, if you feel the need to, go back to the first chapter and see for yourself. I might have made some other changes, but right now I can't remember.

So, here you go! As always, Redwall and its creations don't belong to me, but Samuel, Sagepaw, Tommy, Joseph, etc. do. And as we all know, Mr. Garand and his subsidiaries own the rights to one of the finest infantry rifles ever devised. Just thought I'd throw that out there.

R&R!

* * *

The Great Hall was packed to bursting as everybeast not needed for guard duty celebrated. Soldiers were being showered with gifts and hugs, and the occasional kiss. Nobeast could see the tablecloths there was so much food. Samuel couldn't imagine ever seeing so much in one place. But there it was, arrayed out in front of him like a long-lost treasure.

After a short, but emotion-filled speech, the Abbot said grace and released them to the tables. Samuel, along with the other soldiers, mingled shoulder-to-shoulder with Redwallers and creatures who had lived in the area for years before being captured. By the time he managed to stumble back to his seat, his plate was stacked high with so much food that he could hardly keep it upright.

All of the soldiers went at it with gusto, even more so than the other creatures. After eating canned rations for weeks on end, hot food was something nobeast wanted to let pass them by. Mountains of scones, giant tubs full of soup, and enough bread, it seemed, to fill the entire abbey was passed around gratuitously. Samuel found himself not caring what he ate, since it was all so delicious. Joseph sat next to him, pouring bowl after bowl of hotroot soup down his gullet. Samuel had tried some of the fiery concoction, but quickly found it too much to handle.

Joseph shrugged. "I'm not sure what the matter with you is, mate. Ain't no problems wi' me."

As he was trying to quench the fire in his mouth with a chunk of bread, he felt somebeast tap his shoulder. Turning around, he was suddenly frozen in place.

In all his life, Samuel had never seen a prettier squirrelmaid. His mouth fell open, staring into her emerald-green eyes. They seemed to sparkle on their own, even in the dull candle and torch light. Her russet fur, which flowed over her graceful, elegant limbs, seemed as smooth as water itself. She smiled slightly, causing Samuel's heart to do a small flip.

"Excuse me," she said, with a voice he could only describe as the most serene, tranquil sound to ever meet his ears. "Is anybeast sitting here?" She motioned to the empty seat next to Samuel.

He was immediately at a loss for words. Hastily swallowing the chunk of bread and coughing to clear his throat, he tried to speak. "There's beast no...there's notbeast...no." he finally squeaked.

She giggled a bit, making Samuel think of a thousand wind chimes tinkling in the autumn breeze. She sat down, smiling at his confused, blissful expression. "My name's Penny," she said, extending her paw. "Of Redwall."

Samuel managed to shake her paw, praying feverishly that he wasn't sweating. "Samuel Melton," he croaked. "It's ah...nice to meet you, Penny."

She smiled again; unaware of what it was doing to him. Every time she did, it felt like Samuel's world was spinning on itself. And it was the most amazing feeling he could imagine. "How long have you been in Redwall?" She asked.

He cleared his throat, taking a sip of cordial. He caught Joseph's laughing expression as he did so. "Umm...today, actually." He managed. "We came in just...just this morning. The uh, assault."

"I'm sure you've heard this already, but I wanted to thank you. For everything you and your friends have done. It's been so long since I've seen a truly friendly face." Her smile was still there, but it seemed far away, like she was thinking of other, darker things.

"It wasn't any trouble," he murmured. "Well, it was, but that doesn't...I mean, it was alright, we just...you're welcome."

She giggled again, holding a paw over her mouth. Samuel could distinctly hear Joseph roaring laughter in the background. Trying to elbow his friend, he offered a lopsided grin. "Sorry, he's kind of..."

Penny suppressed her laughter. "It's alright, I understand. So, where are you from? Your accent isn't from Mossflower, is it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to subdue his thumping heart. "Uhm, no. I'm from the east, a ways. It's just a little town, probably just a few hundred beasts in all. My dad's a farmer, and fought in the first war for the Northlands." Without realizing it, he found it easier to talk to the stunningly beautiful squirrel next to him. He would speak for a while, and she would ask questions and tell him about herself. She was from Mossflower, Penny had told him, and left for Redwall when the vermin invaded. When they arrived she decided to stay and help the sick and wounded who were pouring in from the surrounding country. Samuel listened intently the entire time, hardly touching his food. To him, it felt like only ten minutes had gone when he glanced at his watch and blanched. He had been sitting with Penny for three hours! Most everybeast was gone, except for a few other groups scattered around the Great Hall.

Fumbling with his helmet, Samuel stood and helped Penny to her feet. "I'm sorry," he said, still trying to get his gear together. "I uh, have to go. Guard duty on the wall, Sergeant is going to be..."

She waved a paw dismissively. "Its fine, I promise. Besides, we'll see each other tomorrow. Here, I'll walk with you to the gate."

Taking his paw in hers, she didn't even notice the bolt of electricity that suddenly ran through Samuel's system. He could hardly believe she was walking with him, let alone holding his paw! They walked out of the hall and into the courtyard, where a few soldiers were milling about while others stood on wall duty.

She turned and held his other paw, staring into his eyes. Samuel could only watch in stunned silence as she closed hers, starting to lean forward. Rivers of sparks were running through his veins as he did likewise, heart pounding like a jackhammer.

"Melton, get up here! Your turn for watch!" He jumped, along with Penny. He spun around, angry, until he saw it was Sagepaw. The sergeant was coming down from the wall, giving him a look. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?" He asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

Samuel shook his head. "Um, not at all, sergeant. Just uh, walking Penny back to the dormitories."

He smirked, shaking his head. "Alright, well, don't be late next time. Otherwise I'm going to have to sic Tommy on you."

As he walked away, Samuel turned back to Penny. "I'm sorry, Penny, that wasn't supposed to..."

She put a finger to his lips, stifling any further conversation. "I owe you that kiss," she giggled before strolling back to Great hall.

"I knew it! Sammy's got a girlfriend, haha!"

"Shut up."

"There was no way they could stay offa you, laddie buck! By Jove, I knew it would be Sammy!"

"Shut up."

"We can't take her along on patrols, can we? 'Cause that means another head to keep watch over and I'm not sure I can do that with you_ and _Joseph in one squad."

"Shut up."

"She kiss you yet? Because it ain't official 'till she does."

Samuel sat, fuming, at the guard post along with Tommy, Joseph, and Pangil. They had been berating him for the past hour since he told them, foolishly of course, of his encounter with Penny. Since then, it had been non-stop joking.

Wiping a tear of laughter from his eye, Tommy leaned on the wall and peered into the woods. "Seriously, though. Do you think anything'll come of it?"

Samuel shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know. You guys have probably seen how these things go. We plan to get married when I get home, send letters the whole time, promise to stay together, the whole nine yards. Then my tour runs up and she decides that some Colonel sounds like a finer catch."

Joseph shook his head. "Damnit, you are one pessimistic squirrel. Remind me to never stay in the same foxhole. I'll by cryin' before the enemy even gets there."

"He's right, Sammy old lad!" Pangil slapped him on the back, quite a bit harder than need be. "Penny seems like the perfect bally girl for you. She's nice, likes to laugh, knows how to make you stop whining when you get a splinter in yah paw..."

They all laughed, excluding Samuel of course. He set his head on his paws, sighing. "Harr harr, very funny. I'm just thinking from a practical standpoint, is all."

Tommy threw a dirty sock, which had been sitting in the bottom of his pack for some time, at Samuel's head. He connected, making the squirrel flinch. "Ah, go to sleep. You're too depressing for the likes of us."

Samuel slid down the wall until he was leaning against it, making a pillow from his spare jacket. "Fine, but make sure you wake me up if Sagepaw comes by. I'm already on his shit-list from being late."

"You mean kissing one of the natives?"

"Shut up."

Samuel stirred, waking up from the nap. Or so he thought. Something was wrong. He sniffed the air, catching the unmistakable scent of burning fuel and discharged gunpowder. His eyes shot open, expecting the worst. It was far more than that.

Wherever he was, it wasn't Redwall. He cast his eyes, stinging from the thick smoke, across the scene in front of him. He was in a deep, mud-filled trench. The sky was completely covered in billows of roiling black smoke, mixing with the foul rain. Shell casings littered the ground all around him, and there wasn't a bit of his clothing that remained dry. He suddenly realized that he wasn't in his own uniform. It was a long trench coat and boots, along with a flat-brimmed helmet which was dented and scratched across the entire surface. But none of that mattered as looked up into the eyes of the creatures surrounding him.

They were normal beasts, or at least at first glance they were. None of them looked familiar, but what turned Samuel's uncertainty into terror and blood into ice was not because he didn't know them.

They were all dead.

Some had open, gaping wounds from where a machine gun had stitched them open like a fish. Others were missing limbs, crawling and limping towards him. Blood and dirt soaked their uniforms, and their eyes were completely white against the dark and matted fur around them. Samuel tried to scream, but found he couldn't. The air felt like it was trapped in his lungs. He tried to run, only to find himself at the end of the trench, backed up against five feet of blood-stained earth. The creatures began to advance, reaching out with broken and crooked paws. "We have to go over," they were moaning, some only able to gargle the sounds through their horrible throat wounds. "Over the top. We have to, it's the only way. The guns are waiting, we must go."

Samuel struggled for all he was worth, punching and kicking at his attackers, but it was no use. They encircled him, clutching him with their paws. The sound of automatic gunfire reached his ears, and tracers began to streak overhead as the mass of ghoulish creatures began to push him over the trench. "Over the top," they howled, surrounding him on all sides. "We have to go over."

His efforts were useless, Samuel realized, as the crowd finally lifted him above the top. Closing his eyes, he waited for the inevitable.

There was silence. No bursts of gunfire, no artillery rounds blowing him to pieces. Even the distant rumble of artillery had faded away, leaving nothing but the peaceful silence.

Samuel forced himself to open his eyes. He found himself in the same strange place as before, a world of darkness and gentle clouds. Immediately, he felt at peace, like somebeast was comforting him. Looking down, he was in his own uniform. His mind buzzed with questions, until a single voice echoed in his ears. "Hello, Samuel."

He turned around, hesitant at what he would see. But there was nothing, just more of the placid wisps. "Who's there?" He called out, not in fear but in genuine curiosity. "Who are you?"

Something was coming out of the darkness, only now it wasn't darkness. Things were becoming clearer, and the clouds began to settle. Samuel squinted into the rapidly fading black, and then his eyes widened at what stepped forward. The mouse was dressed in full battle armor, from a time long past. His smile was enough to put Samuel at immediate peace, and he knew that this creature was a friend. The mouse rested one paw on the pommel of a great sword, one that had seen countless conflicts and taken countless lives. And yet, it meant safety; it meant protection from everything that might try to hurt him.

"Samuel, do you know who I am?" The mouse spoke, and Samuel could see his lips move, but it seemed as though his voice seeming to come from the air itself.

He thought that he knew, he _knew _that he knew. But the name was eluding him, until he thought back to the abbot. "Martin?"

The mouse nodded, smiling again. "Yes. You are entering a great journey, Samuel. One that not you or I know the end of. All I can tell you is that by the time you have completed it, everything life offers will be sacred. Trust your friends, because they are the ones who hold your life in their paws. Learn to love, even in the darkest of nights. Wars may change, Samuel, but we don't."

Samuel could only nod, suddenly snapping out of the reverie. "Wait," he said, holding up a paw. "Why did I see those...things earlier? What were they? Is that what..." he couldn't finish the sentence.

Martin sighed, nodding almost regretfully. "Your father saw all those things, if not more. War is tragic, Samuel. There is no other way to say it. The first war for the Northlands was long and bitter, filled with more suffering than should have ever been allowed. This conflict will be no different. But those things you saw were more than just simple images; they are your fears. Those are the things that terrify and hold you back from your duties. You must realize, Samuel, that they do not control you. Push past them, and learn what being a warrior is truly about."

The image of Martin began to fade, and the darkness was beginning to return. Samuel called out one last time. "Will I survive?"

Martin's voice seemed distant. "That is not for me to say, warrior. But I can tell you this: You will survive to witness great tragedy and strife, and great love and compassion as well. Good-bye, Samuel."

And with that, everything faded into nothingness.

Samuel woke with a start, blinking like the sun was in his eyes. He took a breath, actually patting himself down and making sure that all of it was real. The abbey was there, still resting in the early-morning darkness. A few lights were still on, mostly around the walls.

He sighed, taking off his helmet and leaning against the thick stone behind him. The entire dream was still ringing clear in his mind, clearer, in fact, than it should have been. Samuel realized that what he saw was no ordinary dream. It was far too real, too memorable. Every single word the mouse had told him was almost engraved into his mind.

"Mornin', Sammy!" He glanced up to look at Pangil, who was leaning nonchalantly against the battlement, resting his rifle on the stone. The hare scratched his neck absentmindedly. "You alright, lad? Look like you've seen a bally ghost, wot wot?"

Samuel cleared his throat, shaking himself slightly. "No, I'm...I'm fine. I just...haven't slept in a while. Anything happen while I was out?"

The hare shook his head, turning back to look at the forest. "Not a thing. Joseph and Tommy went to fetch up some grub. Bloody good thing, too! I'm starving, positively famished, wot? All skin and bones, this hare!" He staggered back and forth, holding a paw to his head. "Bury me well, with a plate of blinkin' apple crumble and strawberry cordial to accompany the brave Sergeant Damien Pangil to his rest!"

Samuel smiled, shaking his head in amusement as he stood and stretched. The first hints of dawn were beginning to appear on the eastern horizon, turning the black night sky into a velvet-like purple. He looked out over the woodlands, glancing at the line of forest where they had been fighting so hard not a day before. His stomach shrunk a bit as he realized what sort of a position the vermin had been in. If they had taken the time to aim, and dropped their mortars just a few moments before, the entire line would have collapsed in seconds.

A friendly shout from below broke the chilling train of thought. He turned and looked down into the courtyard, where Joseph and Tommy were approaching from. They were each carrying baskets, most likely the food Pangil had promised earlier. Joseph whistled, waving his free paw. "Ahoy there, you two! Want to come down here and give us a paw? Sammy's girlfriend Penny made these especially fer us, wouldn't wanna waste it!"

Samuel's ears burned as the other three roared laughter. Pangil gave him a hearty clap on the back. "Ah, come on now laddie! 'S all just fun and games."

The squirrel had just turned to offer a snarky retort when the faint popping noise met his ears. At first, he was unsure of what it was. He began to turn out to the woodlands, until Pangil roared loud enough for the entire abbey to hear. "Incoming! Take cover! Take-"

The first mortar impacted in the orchard, turning the enormous trees and thick shrubbery into matchsticks and pulped leaves in a blinding flash of smoke and dirt. Samuel ducked as the next two came screeching in, one landing harmlessly outside the wall while the last managed to detonate just outside the Great Hall. The explosion shattered the decorative panes of glass, which had miraculously survived the previous day's firefight.

Samuel had thrown himself onto his stomach, holding his rifle in one paw and helmet in the other while the rounds exploded with a _thump, thump, thump. _Ignoring the ringing in his ears, he picked himself up off the floor and dashed to the stairs, frantically looking for his two friends. Both were already on their way up, sprinting as if the devil himself was chasing them. Joseph collapsed behind the wall, leaning against the stone and heaving in breath after breath. "Damned...mortars aren't...finished!"

Tommy took a swig from his canteen, wiping his lips with a shaking paw. "Pangil, you see anything? Give me a target."

Samuel turned to see Pangil attached to his rifle, peering with unblinking eyes through the scope. "Not a bloody thing." He said through gritted teeth, cursing almost silently under his breath. "Vermin bastards, droppin' bombs on innocent creatures. First one of those rats that shows their miserable flea-ridden head is getting it blown halfway to bloody Wednesday."

Tommy was nearly glued to the binoculars, scouring the forest. "Come on, come on, come on, where are you...Sammy, go check and make sure everybeast is alright down there! Call for a medic if you need help."

Samuel leapt down the stairs, pointing at two uniformed mice huddled under the wall. "Go check the dormitories and library, see if there are any wounded. Call for a medic if there is."

They both stared at him with blank looks, which only served his kick up Samuel's tension one more notch. "I said get moving!" He shouted, hauling them up by the scruff of their necks. "You heard me! Now move!"

Both dashed off, heading towards the main abbey building. Samuel sprinted to the Great Hall, having surprised even himself by the display. _I probably wouldn't have done that a few weeks ago, _he mused.

Upon entering the Great Hall, he was relieved to see that the few beasts that had been there appeared unhurt. Most of them were Redwallers, huddled behind the relative safety of an overturned table. One or two soldiers were already there, checking to make sure everybeast was unhurt. Samuel approached one, nodding to the otter as he stood up. "Any of them wounded?"

He shook his head. "Nah, just a little shaken up. Can't blame 'em, really. They're headed down to the cellars, thought it might be safer there." The otter sighed, running a paw over his face. "Damn vermin, trying to kill innocent creatures. I swear, if I see hide or hair of one of those rats, I'm gonna make their day one hell of a lot harder."

Samuel grunted in acknowledgement, watching as the procession of six or so Redwallers filed down to the cellars, some shaking, and a few sobbing out of fright. He turned back to the otter. "Can you take over here? I've got to get back to the wall."

Receiving a nod, Samuel slung his rifle and carefully made his way across the floor, which was covered in shards and pieces of broken glass. He felt a twinge of sadness, looking at the shattered beauty all around him. No doubt all of it had taken ages to build, and now it was gone in the blink of an eye.

The scent of cordite was still fresh on the air as Samuel climbed the stairs, nodding a brief hello to Tommy and Sergeant Pangil, who were still searching the trees with their binoculars and naked eyes. Joseph was sitting down behind a battlement, looking over something in his paws. Samuel sat alongside, noticing the weapon. "Where'd you get that?" He asked, trying to keep his mind off of what had just happened.

Joseph hefted the rifle, one of the heavy Browning Automatic's. Letting the bolt snap forward, he actually grinned. "One of our wounded had it, found 'im in the infirmary after doin' my rounds. He gave it to me, said he wouldn't be usin' it fer a while. Ain't no Bertha, but she's a good ol' stick." He ran a paw over the steel, picking at a few scratches absentmindedly.

Samuel crossed his arms and leaned his head back. "Did anybeast see where those mortars might have come from?"

The otter grunted, obviously frustrated by the whole ordeal. "Somebeast said they might've seen a bit of smoke just to the northeast, but we can't be sure. I heard Sagepaw was goin' to organize a hunting party fer tomorrow, to try and find those rats."

An awkward silence descended over the two, until Samuel spoke. "I'm going with, you know."

Joseph sighed in exasperation. "You were a whole lot easier to deal with back at basic, ye know that? Now ye'll be runnin' around Mossflower wood, searching fer a mortar crew we're not liable to find."

Samuel couldn't resist a small grin. "Now who's being pessimistic?"

He laughed as Joseph thumped him on the shoulder, but it soon died down as they both though of what this incident meant. Samuel's mind wandered, flipping through countless scenarios that they could encounter. What if the vermin had a dug-in position, just waiting for a squad of soldiers to come searching for the elusive mortar? None of them knew these woods well, and they wouldn't be able to notice blind spots or defilade positions until it was far too late. He could almost see the vermin in his head, cackling with devilish pleasure as their machine gun tore the patrol to shreds.

"Do you think you'd marry her?" Joseph's remark brought Samuel back to the present. He looked at his friend with a hint of confusion. "What?"

"I said, do you think you'd marry her?" Samuel thought it might be another joke, but he caught the look in his friend's eyes.

Shrugging, Samuel crossed his legs and leaned forward a bit. "Penny? I don't know, honestly. We just met yesterday, you know. It's not like I've got an engagement ring just sitting in my back pocket waiting for her."

"Bah, yer bein' too humble. Yore just the kind of squirrel she's lookin' for. A soldier, in the sky-jumpers nonetheless! What sort o' maid wouldn't want that?" Joseph grinned, rapping Samuel's helmet jokingly. "But then again, maybe she's more the Captain type."

Samuel had to laugh. Joseph seemed to a better judge of his emotions than Samuel himself. He readjusted the helmet, peering out from under its brim at the abbey. The sun was beginning to rise, just beginning to burn away the darkness and shadows of night. It was almost as if the entire grounds were coming alive. Trees fluttered and shook gently in the morning breeze, and the dew-coated lawn sparkled in the light reflected from the sandstone walls. Even the occasional shrapnel mark or broken chunk of brick couldn't detract from its beauty.

A call from down below caught Samuel's attention. It was Sagepaw, waving to them briskly. "Two of you can come down and get some breakfast for everyone, seeing as Tommy and Joseph couldn't seem to keep a hold of the last one."

Joseph cupped a paw around his mouth and roared back, albeit laughing the whole time. "You want to run through a hail o' mortars with two picnic baskets, Sarge, be my guest!"

Standing up and stretching lazily, Samuel slung his rifle and began descending the steps. "I'll bring you guys back something good," he said, calling back over his shoulder. "That is, if everybeast else hasn't gotten to it. All those jokes sure wore me out, you know. Nothing like insulting somebeast's innocence to wear them out."

He smiled at the following of groans and complaints, intermingled with "I'm sorry!" and "Now that's just not bloomin' fair, wot?"

There were already some abbey-dwellers moving about on the lawns, getting ready for another day. A few young mice and hedgehogs, who the Redwallers called dibbuns, stopped and offered exaggerated salutes as Samuel passed. He smiled and did likewise, winking at a few of the giggling maids. His ears picked up a bit of their conversation as he went by, making him grin. "Look at 'im, so brave! And handsome, too..."

Great Hall was already bustling when Samuel entered. Dozens of beasts, both Redwallers and soldiers alike, rushed to and fro carrying baskets of food and drinks. More than once he had to jump to the side as a tray was pushed ahead. The sound of conversation was nearly deafening, but not enough to drown out Penny's shout.

"Samuel!"

He barely had enough time to register the sound before he was knocked to the ground, embraced tightly by the squirrelmaid. She was saying something, but had her head buried in Samuel's chest, hugging him like she would a long-lost toy. "What?" He managed to croak, trying to breathe.

She relaxed her grip slightly and looked up, crystal-like teardrops beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. "I thought you were hurt," she sobbed, shutting her eyes and leaning against him. "I thought...I thought you might have..."

It was too much for her. Sobbing quietly, Penny held onto Samuel even as he stood and wrapped an arm around her. "Everything's alright," he whispered as they got away from the noise in the hall. "Everything's fine. Shhh, it's alright." He tried to remember how his mother comforted him as a child, after he had awoken from a nightmare. "Just sit down and take a breath." He led her to a stone bench outside, against the building wall. "There, that's it. Now, what's the matter?"

She looked up for a moment, just long enough to wipe her eyes with a paw and take a shuddering breath. "It happened so quickly, we didn't even have time to duck. The windows starting breaking and...and..." she couldn't go any further, instead burying her head in her paws.

Samuel held her, waiting for her to calm down. "It's alright, it's over. Just calm down and breathe."

She finally took in a few shuddering breaths, wiping her eyes with the back of a paw. "I'm sorry," she said, still clearing her throat. "I just didn't know what to do. It all happened so fast."

He offered a comforting smile and hugged her once more. "It's alright, I understand. Believe me, it's not something you can get used to." His eyes noticed the faraway, distant look in hers. "What is it, Penny?"

Taking a breath, the squirrelmaid folded her hands and stared at the ground, almost like she couldn't bear to look at Samuel. "Those things I told you, about how I got here...none of it was true. Well, most if it anyway. I didn't come here to Redwall when the vermin invaded. You see, there was this mouse I knew, her name was Mathilde..."


	11. Chapter 11 Volunteers

Aaaannnnddddd we're back! Sorry this one took so long to update, I've just been...well, actually I've just been really lazy. Spring break, no homework, I felt like taking a break. Anyway, I finally forced myself to sit down and do a bit of work yesterday. This chapter was kind of rushed, I'll admit, since I wasn't able to really start writing until about 8:00 wednesday night. So if you spot some errors, forgive me.

As always, R&R!

* * *

"...and then those Rat bastards took her here, after they'd transformed the place into a prison camp." Samuel angrily tore a chunk from the loaf of bread. After listening to Penny's tale, he was still enraged beyond belief that the vermin could have done something so sinister. "Can you imagine it, this place being a prison camp? It's just...it's not right. I swear, if I ever get my claws on the filthy creature that organized all this, I'm going to make him regret even _thinking _of doing what they did."

Tommy, Pangil, and Joseph had listened intently to Samuel's tirade for the last twenty minutes, finally able to sit down in relax in the ancient library of Redwall after hours of guard duty. All around them, beasts were running to and fro putting misplaced volumes, books, and scrolls back in their respective places. When they had arrived, the vermin ordered all of the abbey's records to be put away, evidently so nobeast could find a way of escape. Now, they were returning.

The hare leaned back in his chair, munching steadily on a helmet-full of almonds. Tommy and Joseph could only stare in awe at Pangil's gastrointestinal feats as he went on between bites. "Bally terrible thing, wot wot? –_chomp- _Wonder how long the blaggards kept these innocent creatures pent up like that. Far too long, I'm sure."

Samuel rested his chin in a paw, drumming the other on the oak tabletop. "Penny said almost three full seasons. They just kept bringing in more and more prisoners. Woodlanders, abbey-dwellers, anybeast who managed to get themselves caught. Most were fleeing west towards Salamandastron, evidently."

Pangil nodded sharply, eyes narrowing a bit. "Bloody right they did. I was part of the force covering their retreat. Vermin were chasin' the poor creatures down, capturing any they could and shooting any they couldn't." His eyes seemed to cloud for a moment, like he was reliving the memory inside his head. Samuel stared at him curiously, watching as Pangil's lips moved, but only caught a few snippets of the hushed whisper. Samuel thought he heard something like "The green eyes, the one with the green eyes."

But the hare snapped back to reality, shaking his floppy ears. "But, enough of that. I'm off to bed, chaps. G'night!" He was up from the table and out the library door before anybeast could raise a paw.

Tommy sighed and ran a paw over his face. "I might just follow that stomach on legs. It's been a long time since we slept in real beds. Last time was at that village, as I remember it."

Joseph grunted, nodding. "Aye, that'd be it. We been on the march or fightin' ever since. Ain't that right, Sammy?"

When he didn't answer, the otter glanced up at his friend. Samuel was staring at his paws on the table, which were clenched so tightly that they shook uncontrollably. His eyes were wide open, but they didn't seem to be focusing on anything. A single bead of sweat rolled down his brow, landing on the table.

"Hey, Sammy, what's wrong?" Joseph asked, concerned. He reached across the table and clasped a paw on Samuel's shoulder. The squirrel jumped, blinking rapidly and breathing like he had just run a marathon. When he noticed the worried looks on Tommy and Joseph's faces, he tried to force a smile. "Sorry, I was uh, thinking about something else."

The other two didn't fall for his act. "What's bothering you, Samuel?" Tommy asked, leaning forward slightly. "We're here if you need us, you know."

Standing on shaky legs, Samuel shook his head and waved his paw, like he was dismissing the offer. "Nothing. Just...just tired, is all. I'm going head in for the night. See you in the morning." He turned around to walk away, but ran straight into the frame of Sagepaw, who had been standing there for almost a full minute.

He immediately noticed the look on Samuel's face, a flicker of concern rippling across his own. He had seen that stare before, the kind that transformed a beast's eyes into lifeless pools where the soul went to die.

Sagepaw coughed, forcing himself to ignore it for now. "Mind holding off on bunk call for a few more minutes, Samuel? There's a briefing in the Great Hall in ten minutes, it shouldn't take too long. But I think you'll all be interested," he said, glancing at the other two still sitting at the table. "Especially if you plan on helping us find those mortars."

Joseph stood, hefting his rifle casually. "You say the word, Sarge, and we're there. Exceptin' Tommy, o' course. He volunteered to help supervise the rebuilding. Some o' the old Abbey rooms and chambers got a little roughed up, if'n you know what I mean."

The squirrel nodded. "I understand. 'S too bad though, we could use Tommy out there. He seemed to do well enough leadin' your pack of scoundrels."

Tommy smiled, waving a paw as the trio walked out of the library. "Scoundrels is right, Sarge! I swear, sometimes it's like trying to herd beetles!"

As they strode through the almost cavern-like hallway, the sounds of their boot steps on the stone echoing loudly, Joseph spoke up. "So, what exactly are we meetin' for?"

Sagepaw sighed audibly. "I'll give you the details in the brief, but remember when I said we'd get this place going right proper once some officers show up?"

The two nodded, and the squirrel seemed to glare at the pathway ahead. "Well, they're showing up earlier than we thought. A messenger bird came in this morning, said he was from the main invasion force driving in from the west and south. There'll be a full division meeting up here within the next two days. And if those mortars are still around, that column of beasts is going to be wonderful target practice."

As they turned into the Great Hall, which was already packed with every soldier not on guard duty, every head turned towards Sagepaw. He walked to the front of the massive chamber as Samuel and Joseph took a seat nearby. A massive pin-up board had been rolled into the room, on which a large map of the immediate land around Redwall was pinned. It was obviously a vermin map, judging from the symbol etched into the top right corner: Two crossing spears, with a skull resting underneath.

Sagepaw managed to silence the room with a low whistle, getting everybeast's attention. Forty or so heads turned to look at the dogged-looking squirrel. He immediately jumped into the briefing. "Good afternoon. I'm sure that most of you know who I am, but for those who don't; my name is Sergeant Robert Sagepaw with the 136th parachute regiment. Here's our current situation, ladies and gentlebeasts." He used a red marker to draw a large circle around the abbey. "Obviously, we're here. As I'm sure you're all aware of, there's a vermin mortar crew somewhere in here," the marker made a series of X's in the surrounding woods. "and they've got us smack-dab in the middle of their sights. We haven't received any more fire since yesterday, but that might change very soon."

He shifted position, having to take a full three steps to reach the part of the map where the western coast was shown. "Our land forces arrived here," he said, gesturing to a stretch of coastline. "About a week ago. They took heavy casualties, but they made it past the beaches and started pushing inland."

A rousing cheer went up from the crowd, beasts throwing their helmets up into the air and shouting with joy. Sagepaw waited for the noise to die down before continuing. "What this means is that we'll finally get some officers in here, which is something desperately needed. However, this also means that those vermin sitting in the woods are going to pound the ever-loving hellgates out of anybeast trying to get close to the abbey. There's not a doubt in my mind that if we were just able to wait them out, those rats out in the forest would give up within the week once they realized that we couldn't be knocked out with a few mortars.

"But now that we've got reinforcements coming, those mortar crews are going to be under strict orders to stay put and wait for our troops. We can't let that happen. Here's my proposal..."

* * *

"One more time, what's the plan?"

Samuel recited the words from memory, cleaning his rifle with an old rag. He and Joseph were in the cellars, gathering supplies and equipment for the mission ahead. Only twenty beasts had been chosen to go along, although every soldier had volunteered. "Starting in the woodlands closest to the abbey, two squads will split up and hook around through the forest, meeting up at the path in the middle. If one squad gets fired upon, the other will continue to move around until they've closed behind the vermin position, and then eliminate the threat. Once the mortars are found, destroy them and any ammunition we find."

Joseph smiled and shook his head in wonder. "I swear, Sammy, it's like that big ol' brain of yores is some kinda sponge. I'da never remembered all o' that."

His friend shrugged, starting to reassemble his weapon. It was the third time he had repeated the process. It helped him stay calm, along with muttered prayers under his breath at every opportunity. "I figure that if it could save our lives, it might be a good thing to remember it all."

They both descended into quiet, until Samuel looked up at the otter. "Are you scared?"

The otter guffawed, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Scared? Nah. Why would I be?" His smile drooped a bit, eyes softening. "O' course I'm scared, Sammy. Everybeast is, and ye'd be crazy not to. Sometimes fear's a good thing, keeps ye on yore toes."

"I just don't want to...freeze up, you know?" Samuel said, fiddling with his boot laces. Anything to keep his eyes down. "I don't want to let anybeast down; I don't want to be a coward."

Joseph leaned down from the barrel he was sitting on and put his paw on Samuel's shoulder, getting his attention. "Ye aren't a coward, Sammy." he said, voice just loud enough for the squirrel to hear. "I saw ye the day we took the abbey. I _saw _ye get that rat with the machine gun, spewing fire at yore face. That ain't somethin' a coward would do."

Samuel allowed himself a smile. "Thanks, Joseph." he said, letting out a tension-filled sigh. "I, uh...needed to hear that."

The otter grinned, smacking his helmet lightly. "Not a problem, mate. Now quit scrubbin' yore rifle like that. Ain't gonna be a bit of metal left when you've finished with it."

Samuel allowed the bolt to snap forward and rested the rifle on his elbows. "Alright, alright. But don't let me hear you complaining when that monster of yours jams."

Joseph hopped off the oaken barrel, retrieving his weapon from where it was resting against the wall. "Ol' Bertha'll be just fine."

Samuel stared walking out of the cellars, Joseph following close behind. "You named it Bertha?" the squirrel said, smirking. "I thought you had already named the other that?"

The otter sighed, obviously saddened by the loss of his machine gun. "She was a good 'un, but she's gone now. Probably lost in the swamps of Mossflower, never to be seen again."

They both exited the main abbey building, the world around them cloaked in the early morning darkness. Sagepaw had insisted on staring in the wee hours of the day, as to reduce their chances of being spotted too quickly. There was already a growing crowd of beasts arrayed by the west gate, most with camouflage-dyed fur and extra ammunition bulging from their pockets. Samuel hadn't bothered with any sort of paint, as his fur was almost a perfect match for the auburn-colored tree trunks and dirt.

Sagepaw was standing off to one side, addressing a group of Redwall healers, signified by their red armbands. Samuel caught a snippet of the conversation as he passed by. "...and make sure the infirmary is ready. I don't how many casualties we'll have, but it could be pretty bad..."

Samuel's heart almost skipped a beat. If their Sergeant was that worried, what were his chances of actually surviving this mission? Their plan was haphazard at best. If one squad found the mortar crew and became pinned down, and if the second squad couldn't reach them in time, they would be back at square one. That, along with the potential of losing almost half of their force left a sour taste in Samuel's mouth.

As he melted into the crowd of beasts, he suddenly noticed something. There were a number of Redwallers, about five all told, dressed in bits and pieces of uniform and wielding vermin rifles. Each of them had a helmet at the very least, but most of the similarities stopped there. For most it was just one of the sky-jumpers olive drab jacket or pants, with an occasional pair of boots. But for most, it was simple earth-colored clothing and charcoal rubbed on their faces.

Samuel couldn't stop himself from approaching one of them, a young hedgehog at least two seasons his junior. The spine-covered beast looked up as Samuel tapped him on the shoulder. "What are you doing here?" He asked quietly, trying not to attract attention to himself.

The hedgehog grinned, adjusting the oversized helmet. "I'm goin' out with ya! The good Sarn't over there said we could go along if'n we wanted."

He was stunned. Sagepaw had authorized this? These creatures weren't soldiers; they hardly even knew how to hold a rifle! Samuel shook his head and turned away from the enthusiastic abbey-dweller, marching towards Sagepaw. The squirrel had finished speaking to the healers and was about to address the crowd when Samuel reached him. "What's up, Sammy?" He asked, keeping his voice low.

Samuel gestured angrily with a paw, hardly able to contain his anger. "What the hell is this, Sergeant? These creatures aren't soldiers. They'll get themselves killed out there!"

Sagepaw narrowed his eyes slightly, but kept his tone level. "They volunteered, Samuel. It's not like I came begging on my paws and knees looking for extra bodies. I told them what could happen; I _told _them that they could get killed out there. But they wanted to come. Believe me, if I had let in everybeast who wanted to come along, there'd hardly be one left in the abbey. These five insisted, said they'd go out anyway even if I said no."

"But they don't know what's waiting out there!" Samuel was hissing angrily, almost shouting through his gritted teeth. "They're hardly even old enough to pick up a weapon."

Sagepaw had had enough. "Private, this wasn't my decision!" He snapped, pointing at the crowd behind him. "These creatures want to defend their homes, defend their lives! Wouldn't you want to do the same thing if the vermin had done the same to our land? This is the first time in countless seasons that these beasts have had the hope, the courage to fight back."

Samuel couldn't bring himself to respond. Instead, he shot one last glare at Sagepaw before turning back to the crowd. Joseph gave him a strange look, but knew better than to say anything. His friend stood silently, fuming. It was almost a full minute before he spoke. "He's going to get these Redwallers killed."

Joseph sighed. "Sammy, it ain't his choice. If'n they volunteered and the Abbot gave 'em the thumbs-up, we can't do much about it."

"It still doesn't make it right."

The otter chose not to say anything more. He had never seen Samuel like this before. It wasn't like him to seem so adamant about something, much less accost his leader about it. But he forced those thoughts away as Sagepaw began speaking.

"Is everybeast familiar with the plan?" He asked, speaking out over the assembly. After some nodding and murmured affirmations, he ticked off ten beasts with his finger. "You ten, you're with me. We're going to sweep around the left side of the trees. The rest of you are with Corporal Jones, going to the right. Remember: As soon as you hear one squad get fired upon, haul tail around the clearing and get the vermin from behind. I don't want those Rats slipping away. You Redwallers," he said, not failing to notice the daggers coming from Samuel's eyes, "Stick close to somebeast and follow orders. If you get into contact, drop low and don't move until you're told to. Good luck, everybeast."

Samuel had been put in Jones' squad. Unfortunately, Joseph was with Sagepaw and the others. They shook paws and said good-bye, not knowing if they would see one another at the end of the day.

The squirrel immediately noticed the two Redwallers in his squad. One was the hedgehog from earlier, almost bouncing with excitement. The other was a shrew, wielding two vermin handguns and a belt full of grenades. He had painted black stripes among his tan fur, giving his face a savage appearance. The trench-coat he wore seemed older than the beast himself, and his boots were so badly scuffed that they were almost white. Samuel approached the shrew, greeting him with a nod. "Morning, friend."

The shrew, who had seemed to notice Samuel even before he had appeared, returned the gesture. Samuel almost immediately noticed the twang in his voice. "Morning, comrade. Fine time to send some vermin to hellgates."

He almost flinched at the shrew's bloodlust. Coughing to clear his throat, Samuel extended a paw. "I'm Samuel Melton, by the way."

The fierce-eyed shrew stuffed one of the pistols into his belt and shook Samuel's paw firmly. "Grigory, son of the far-north shrew tribes."

"Far north? As in, the highlands?"

Grigory offered him a toothy grin. "Further than that, comrade. The far northlands, where the only things that grow are snow and rocks. My family was captured when we tried to move south, where life was said to be easier." His eyes went dark for a moment, and he spat ruefully onto the ground. "Vermin scum. I swore to my wife and daughter that I'd save them. I couldn't even keep that promise."

Samuel could see the burning, roiling hatred swimming in the shrew's eyes. All he could do was cough into his sleeve and look away, murmuring an apology.

Sagepaw surveyed the crowd one last time before holding up his paw to get everybeast's attention. "Are we good to go?" His question was met with a sea of nods and whispered "yes's." The squirrel took one last look over the assembly before throwing a salute. "Good luck, everybeast, and may God be with you."

And with that, the door was opened and the creatures filed out into the unknown.


	12. Chapter 12 March

Sorry for the wait on this one, guys. As I said in that last chapter of Whence We Came, things are super busy on my end. School, talking with army recruiters, all that junk. But I managed to sit down and make some progress on DoF, so that's good.

I'm not sure how I like this chapter, at least on my own terms. Once again, its a little short, but lots of stuff going on. Give me your opinions on this one, as it was written at an unholy hour of the night and under the influence of enough Diet Pepsi and Zipfizz to lay out an entire platoon. (Well, maybe any normal platoon. Long Patrol on the other hand...)

R&R!

* * *

The forest closed in around the small column of beasts, shrouding them in the impenetrable darkness. Trees loomed overhead, grasping and clutching at them with finger-like branches. Whatever light the moon could have offered was blocked by thick clouds, no doubt bringing rain with them. In the thick, choking gloom, every sound seemed amplified ten-fold. Every pawstep like a resounding explosion, every snapping twig like a rifle shot. The ten beasts moved with agonizing slowness, each step thought out and planned carefully. As soon as one moved forward they would stop and listen to the eerie silence, searching for anything that could give them away.

Samuel held his breath and lifted a boot, swinging it over a fallen log and setting it carefully on the other side. Thankfully, that part of the earth was covered in moss and dirt, not dry twigs. He did the same with the other leg, taking a knee once he was on the other side. All around him, beasts were making their way through the tangled mess of trees and brush. He knew that one broken branch; one step into a small bush, and it could all be over in a hail of gunfire.

Glancing over to his left, Samuel spotted Grigory. The shrew was stopped by a large sycamore tree and caught his glance. He smiled a bit, motioning forward with a paw. Samuel nodded in response, turning back to the task at hand. Ahead of him lay a seemingly endless expanse of trees, standing like silent guardians of their ancient land.

They had been moving for almost a solid hour. Nearly everybeast's muscles were aching from the long, drawn-out movements. But they all knew that it would be some time yet before a rest. So they kept walking, moving, slipping through the dew-laden night air.

Samuel had just stopped behind a large blackberry bush when a noise caught his attention. It was a short hissing noise, hardly even audible. But when he turned to the right, the otter Jones was gesturing to him with a paw. Samuel nodded, starting the painstaking process of moving across the dozen or so feet. It took nearly three full minutes before Samuel reached the corporal. The otter didn't bother with words. He used his paws to communicate.

Two fingers underneath the eyes, followed by four. _I see four._

Tapping of the wrist with two fingers. _Vermin._

An arching of the paw. _Mortar._

Samuel's heart leapt into his throat. He responded in a similar manner. _How far?_

_Thirty paces, straight ahead. In a clearing. Spread out, wait for the signal. _

The otter was gone before Samuel could respond. With trembling paws and adrenaline coursing through his veins like battery acid, he looked back to Grigory. The shrew had seemed to understand the rushed gestures and nodded, turning to inform the others down the line. Samuel held his breath, taking another pace forward. Everything counted on their ability to stay quiet long enough to surprise the vermin. If the Rats had even a hint of contact, they would be gone like leaves on the wind.

As he put another paw down, Samuel looked up and had to suppress the urge to scream. Visible between two clumps of shrubbery, only a stone's throw away on the other side of the field, sat the vermin mortar crew. They had dug a shallow hole, just big enough for all six to rest in and fire their weapon. It was easy enough to spot, as the gunners had done a terrible job camouflaging the weapon and position. Most of it was just loose twigs and branches, with some ferns thrown in as well. But none of it was very effective. Samuel slid down to a knee, and then allowed his body to crumple onto the ground in a prone position. There was a small lump of dirt ahead of him, which stretched around the field. He slid his rifle up onto the berm, trying to adjust his sights. But it was nearly impossible in the darkness. He swore silently, shifting his body slightly in an attempt to catch the moonlight.

There was no warning, only a single, ear-splitting detonation that lit up the darkness like ten flares igniting at once. Samuel felt like he had been punched in the gut as a hail of dirt and debris came down. All he could hear was a high-pitched, keening whistle that overwhelmed even the muzzle flashes beginning to pop and spark all along the field. Samuel jerked the trigger on his weapon without even aiming. The familiar jolt of the weapon spurred him into action. He tucked the stock into his shoulder and began firing, unable to see any of the vermin themselves. The entire mortar position was nothing more than a cloud of dust, snapping tree branches, and flurry of tracers. Somebeast threw a grenade, which detonated with a loud _thud _and flash of light.

Samuel pulled the trigger over and over again, feeling the terror and dread start to melt away like spring snow. Every gunshot sent another surge of adrenaline through his veins, every spout of fire and smoke like a calming drug. His eyes never left the target. It was almost as if all he had to do was think, and the rifle would aim for him. It felt instinctive, like he was meant to do this. All the gunfire seemed to fade, leaving nothing but him and his rifle. Reality was condensed into a small pinhole of the target and backdrop.

It was only when the empty clip ejected with its tell-tale _ping _that he was forced back into reality. His fingers had just reached for a new clip when the last shots faded away, leaving nothing but the echoing report. Smoke drifted across the field, from the now-silent mortar position. It was obvious that nothing could have survived the onslaught. Two of the vermin had evidently tried to escape, and been cut down outside the dugout. The remaining bodies were strewn about the hole, some still leaning on their weapons. Even from the distance at which they sat, it was easy to spot the dark streaks of blood and mangled limbs.

Samuel's ringing ears had recovered just enough to hear a whispered hiss. He spun to the left, still flooded with excitement. Jones pointed to him and then the ground. _Stay here. _Without even waiting for a response, the otter turned and uttered a low whistle, waving a paw to three other beasts. They stood and began to work around the edge of the small meadow.

As they moved, Samuel realized that he was horribly exposed where he sat. The only remaining cover was a few clumps of bush and part of the berm. Most of it had been blown away by the initial explosion, whatever that had been. Checking on both sides, he could see nothing worth moving to. Until, at least, his eyes picked up a relatively intact tree-trunk to the left, big enough to conceal his frame. Some of it seemed to be dotted with shrapnel, but otherwise unharmed. Taking a breath, he pushed himself on the ground and set off at a crouched jog towards the tree, only about twenty-five paces away.

The scene around him became clearer as he moved. There was a large, smoking crater where something had gone off, but it didn't look like a mortar. The hole was too oddly shaped; looking like the explosive had detonated above and away from the ground. He actually stopped, perplexed by the strange phenomenon. But his curiosity quickly turned to dread when he noticed a figure lying on the ground near the hole.

Samuel was moving before his mind had registered the command. He skidded the last few feet on his knees, reaching the body. It was turned away from him, and the features were too vague to make out any detail. Samuel bowed his head and reached out a paw, trying to stifle the tears.

His heart almost froze when, his paw touched the apparent corpse's shoulder; it coughed and shuddered in pain. Samuel immediately leaned down and rolled the creature over, inhaling sharply when he saw the face. "Grigory, oh no, please no..."

The shrew offered a weak grin, blood trickling down his lips. "Hello, comrade..." A fit of choking coughs racked his frame, and he took a quaking breath. "...comrade Samuel. This looks like...a bad one, eh? Cursed landmines..." Samuel's eyes trailed down the shrew's body. One of his arms rested limply on his chest, while the other was mangled beyond recognition. And although they were partially covered by the dirt, he could easily tell that Grigory's legs were nothing more than stumps.

Samuel lifted his friend's head slightly, reaching for his canteen. "You'll...you'll be alright, Grigory. Just don't move too much and we can get you a..."

The shrew shook his head as another blood-choked cough shook his body. "No, Samuel. I know my fate. Please, just...just promise me one thing."

Not even realizing the sobs coursing through his frame, Samuel wiped away another trail of blood from Grigory's mouth. "Anything, friend, anything."

The shrew looked up at the night sky, letting his eyelids droop. "Tell my wife...and daughters that I...I love them very much. Good-bye, my friend, my...comrade..."

A final sigh escaped Grigory's lips, and his clouding eyes fell shut. Samuel collapsed, holding the broken body of the shrew warrior in his arms and wept like a child. All he was capable of was rocking back and forth on his knees, gasping as tears poured from his eyes. It was like a knife had been thrust into his stomach, and some sadistic beast was turning it slowly over and over. He didn't even notice when a small group of soldiers had gathered around him, taking off their helmets and wiping tears from their own eyes. It wasn't until a paw was placed on his shoulder did he look up.

Sagepaw's kind, but grief-stricken face met his. "Samuel," he whispered, just loud enough for both to hear. "I'm sorry, he's gone. We can't do anything more for him. Come on, let him go."

He looked back down to Grigory, staring at the quiet, serene expression on his face. It was like he had died in his sleep, not torn to shreds by a vermin mine. Samuel gently placed the shrew's head on the ground, remaining on his knees. Sagepaw gestured to a soldier, taking the wool blanket from his pack. He knelt next to Samuel and draped the blanket over Grigory's body. "We have to go." He said after a moment, wrapping an arm around Samuel's shoulders. "We have to get him back to the Abbey. Come on, Sammy. It's time we left here."

Sagepaw helped Samuel to his feet, gesturing silently to a few of the soldiers. They gingerly picked up the blanket-wrapped bundle and carried it between four of them as the remaining beasts began to march back to the abbey.

Not a single one of them spoke. They simply walked, with one boot in front of the other, for what felt like ages. Even the forest seemed to be lamenting. Not a single bird call, not one chirping insect broke the grief-stricken silence. A gust of wind blew through the trees, carrying with it a mournful whistle.

Dawn was already beginning to break pink and gold against the horizon by the time they reached the abbey. A few of the guards spotted the nineteen beasts returning and hurried to open the side gate. They stumbled in; body and souls weary after a night of marching and grieving. Some of the early-rising Redwallers approached, hoping to offer congratulations, but one look at the soldiers' red-ringed eyes and tear streaked faces sent most turning back to their previous tasks.

Samuel followed Grigory's body to the abbey basements, where it would be stored until a proper burial could be arranged. He watched as the corpse was lowered gently onto the cobblestone floor, still wrapped in the blanket. One of the soldiers put a paw on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, friend," the mouse said, speaking around the tears. "I truly am."

He waited until the rest were out of the room before approaching. Samuel extended a shaking paw, lifting up the blanket gingerly. Grigory's face was the same. No pain, only a lingering hint of sadness. Never to see his wife and children again, never to breathe the sweet scent of life that sSamuel was now. He felt guilty, like it should have been him under that blanket. After all, Grigory hadn't been a soldier. It wasn't his duty, his commitment to lay down his life for a greater good. Why was Samuel any better than this good-hearted shrew? Grigory had a family, somebeast to call him husband, another to call him father. Samuel had none of these things. He was just a regular creature, with nothing to offer to anybeast else.

Sinking to his knees, he couldn't hold back the tears. He wept like never before. He tried to push the agony, the fear out of him with every gasp. But nothing worked. It was still there, like a red-hot knife to the gut. Samuel collapsed, pounding a clenched fist on the stone floor until his paw was bleeding.

He heard Joseph enter, but didn't bother turning. The otter sat next to him, taking off his helmet and sighing deeply. "Samuel, I...I don't really know what t' say, other than I'm sorry. Grigory was a good beast, one o' the best. He won't be forgotten fer a long, long time."

Samuel seemed oblivious to his friend's comments, staring at the blood-spattered floor in front of him. "Why are we here?" He said, nothing more than a whisper.

Joseph didn't hear. "Sorry?"

His friend rounded on him, nearly shouting in the otter's face. "Why are we here? These aren't our homes, this isn't our war! Why are we fighting these vermin?"

Joseph stared coolly into his friend's burning eyes. "Because we're the only ones who can, Sammy. These creatures 'ave been oppressed for too long to fight back. Wouldn't you want the same, if yore home and everything dear to ye was taken?"

The ultimatum sent a bolt of lightning through his frame. Thoughts, pictures of his parents being taken captive or killed flooded his mind. Everyone he knew, forced into labor, or tortured for days until being thrown into mass graves.

Samuel had no response, only able to lean back and sink into more sobs. It was all too much; he couldn't take any more. He buried his face in his paws, huddling close to Joseph as the otter wrapped an arm around his trembling shoulders. "We'll be alright, Sammy." The otter said quietly. "Everything's gonna be alright."


	13. Chapter 13 Broken and Restored

Hey everyone! I finally managed to put out another chapter, albeit a short one. Like I said before, life is crazy right now. So I apoligize for this one being so short, and also for having some of the worst cliche's possible. I'm not a romance writer, deal with it.

So, besides that, I've also got a bit of an announcement! In either the next chapter, or the one after, I'm planning on doing a sort of intermission/break in the story, just for a chapter. But here's where you can help!

What I want from you, the wonderful readers and reviewers, is your questions. I've seen a few people do this, not on FF but elsewhere, and it turned out to be pretty fun. So if you have any questions for me at all, whether it's about the story, about my writing, what the weather is like in my area, what I do for fun, whatever you want (as long as it's appropriate, of course. Bad questions will get you a dirty look and a thermite grenade hidden under your pillow.)

So you can either put your questions in a review of this chapter, or if you want you can e-mail me at:

Just put something in the subject line so I know it's not spam, and I'll try to get it in. There's also a few things of my own I'm going to put in as questions, just to adress some issues that have come up outside of the FF community.

Anyways, enough of that bolderdash. Read up, review, and send in your questions!

* * *

It seemed like hours until Samuel was able to compose himself well enough to stand up and head outside, with Joseph still at his side. The sky had turned to the color of charcoal, and there were already a few heavy raindrops falling from the clouds. Everybeast who was still outside was silent, most with tear-stained eyes and looks of utter defeat. A few Redwallers passed Samuel and Joseph, on their way to bury Grigory. One of them was Abbot Carmen.

The mouse stopped in front of Samuel, with a look of grief unlike any Samuel had ever seen. He took a shuddering breath before speaking. "Samuel, I heard about...about what you did for Grigory. There is nothing I can possibly say to express my gratitude for your actions. We have seen so much suffering and pain in these last seasons, and now you show us such an act of kindness even in the midst of such violence. I am forever in your debt."

Samuel couldn't find the words to respond. All he could do was to accept the Abbot's embrace. "Father, may I ask you something?"

The elderly mouse held him at arm's length. "Anything, my son."

"Do you know Grigory's wife and children? I promised him something before he..." Samuel couldn't finish the sentence, but Carmen nodded.

"I understand, Samuel. Yes, I know them. They have been informed of his passing, but if you still wish to see them..."

He nodded. "Thank you, Father."

Joseph clasped a paw on his friend's shoulder. "Do you need me to come with?" he asked quietly.

Samuel shook his head. "No, I'll be fine. Go get some sleep; you look like you could use it."

His friend nodded, assured by his tone. "Thanks mate. I'll...see you later."

He walked off as the Abbot led Samuel back towards the main building. The rain started to come down as they got inside, the drops beginning to patter against the stained glass windows. Both were silent as Carmen showed him up a set of stairs, towards the infirmary. He stopped just outside the door, whispering to Samuel. "They've been in here since...since they were told. His wife Hanna is taking it badly, along with their children, as you can imagine."

Samuel forced himself to nod. "Yes, I can."

The Abbot shook his paw once more before turning to leave. "Thank you, Samuel. Not many beasts have your compassion."

He waited until the mouse had descended the steps before opening the infirmary door slightly and stepping inside. Only one bed was taken, at the far end of the room. Three shrews sat there, holding each other tightly and sobbing. One was obviously the mother, with two younger girls clutching to her. They were weeping so badly that they didn't notice Samuel until he was standing in front of them.

The mother, Hanna, looked up with bloodshot eyes. "Are you...are you the one that was with my husband?"

Samuel nodded slowly, sitting down on the bed opposite them and lying his helmet and rifle on the mattress. "Yes," he murmured, conscious of the two young ones staring at him with eyes filled with confusion. "Yes, I got to him first. He told me...he told me to say that he loved you all very much, more than you can ever know." Samuel ran a paw through the fur on his head, trying to keep his voice level.

Hanna tucked her children close and looked him in the eyes. Her expression wasn't one of anger, or even blame. It was so kind, even under the mask of grief. "Please, I don't mean to be rude, but did he...was it painful?"

He wasn't sure of what to say. Deep down, Samuel knew that his friend had been in agony until he died, even if he had gone in relative peace. But he couldn't lay that sort of pain on Hanna and her little ones. He looked down at the floor for a moment to compose himself before returning to her. "No, it was too quick. He had enough time to say a few words. It was like falling asleep." Samuel hated himself with more and more as each word left his mouth. Grigory had suffered for far too long, broken and surrounded by a living hell.

Hanna drew in a shaky breath before standing up and sitting next to him, as the little ones cried silently. "Thank you, for everything you did." She clasped his paw in her own, squeezing it. "I had told him that it was a foolish idea." Managing a thin smile, she looked into his face. "I said that he wasn't a warrior."

Samuel shook his head. "He was one of the finest warriors I've ever had the privilege to meet. I don't know if it's any consolation at all, but he...he died fighting."

She blinked more tears away from her red eyes. "It is. Truth be told, I didn't see it happening any other way. It was just a matter of..."

_It was just a matter of when, _Samuel thought to himself. _Just like me. Not if, but when. _He sighed.

They talked for just a few minutes, neither of them in any mood to speak more than was needed. As he got up to leave, Samuel noticed the two young shrew maidens, staring at him and weeping silently. He knelt in front of them so he was looking up into their faces and placed a paw on each of their shoulders. "Your father was a very brave creature," He said, hugging them both. "Never forget that."

Five minutes later, Samuel was sitting by himself in the Great Hall, which was still vacant. He sat at one of the tables, holding his head in both paws. He wasn't even able to think. It was as if his mind had gone blank and refused to call up the past few hours. He couldn't even cry. Samuel felt empty, like the very soul had been sucked out of his body.

The sound of somebeast walking over the stone floor caught his attention, but Samuel already knew who it was and didn't bother looking up. Penny sat next to him, taking one if his paws in hers. She didn't say anything for a few moments, until she let out a sigh and rubbed his paw. "Samuel, I don't know what I can say, but I'm sorry."

He sat up and looked into her eyes. They were so understanding, so compassionate. She knew what he was suffering through, even if she didn't say it. Samuel blinked a few times, unsure of how to continue. "I've never seen anything like that before. I never thought I would. When my father told me about his war, none of it was like this. It was always talking with his buddies or trying to get the rain out of a trench. I...I can see why he never told me about this."

Penny wrapped him in her arms as the tears came again. She let him bury his head in her shoulder, holding him close. Samuel felt so weak, so small in this whole mess. Even Penny seemed stronger than him. How could he take any more of this, how could he bear any more suffering?

He finally managed to stop shaking and wiped an arm across his eyes, still holding onto the squirrelmaid. "I'm sorry, Penny." he said, trying to force a grin. "I guess soldiers aren't as brave as we think."

She caressed his cheek with a paw. "Samuel, it takes a brave creature to show compassion. Most just lock their troubles away until it tortures them endlessly. You...you have a heart. Not many these days can claim something like that." She smiled, sending Samuel's heart into a flurry. And before he could act, she leaned forward and kissed him, sending an explosion of sparks through his entire body. Samuel closed his eyes, completely lost to reality.

After what seemed like an eternity, she broke the kiss and took his paw again. "I love you, Samuel."

He did likewise, completely unaware of the lopsided grin plastered on his face. "I love you too, Penny. I always will, no matter what."

Samuel wasn't empty anymore. In fact, he was more complete than he ever was.

* * *

A/N: _Ugh, that last scene was almost painful for me to write. Like I said above, I don't do romance scenes. Firefights, battles, even interesting dialogue at times, but not romance. Sorry if it came across all mushy and crap. I'm new to it._

_And remember, send in your questions!_


	14. Intermession: Why I hate being the S4

The supply office, as usual, was stuffy and filled with the scent of burnt coffee and cigarette smoke. Early-morning sunlight drifted in through the only two windows in the cramped headquarters. The only furniture was a multitude of file cabinets arrayed hastily around the edges of the room and a simple wooden desk placed against the wall opposite the door.

The silence was broken by the sound of boots on the linoleum floor. As the door swung open, a bleary-eyed fox stepped inside. His olive uniform and black jump boots were dirty from a week-long lack of attention, and the coffee cup he held in one paw was filled with another batch of the almost life-sustaining brew. His whiskers hadn't been trimmed in days, and it was clear that they wouldn't be for some time.

Sitting himself behind the desk with a sigh, the fox took a cursory glance at the seemingly endless supply of reports and folders piled on its surface. Another day of mind-numbing paperwork and countless cups of coffee was all he could look forward to now. He sighed. Same day, different bullsh-

"Whatthehell!" He shouted, nearly leaping out of the chair as something crashed into one of the windows with enough force to crack the pane. The fox tried to settle his breathing as he went to the window and opened it to reveal a cheery-faced finch. He could only glare as the bird saluted. "Morning, Sergeant Nelson! Another fine day ahead, is it?"

The fox kneaded his forehead with a paw, gesturing with the other. "Just give me what you've got, bird. I haven't had near enough coffee to deal with your jolly little attitude yet."

As the last comment made a whistling sound passing over the bird's head, it leaned forward and allowed the Sergeant to retrieve the small plastic container on its back. After undoing the straps, the finch saluted again and flapped off. "See you tomorrow, Sergeant! Have a nice day!"

Grumbling to himself, the fox unrolled the papers and placed them on top of the others before taking a sip of coffee. "Smarmy little sonofa...Gah, who made this crap?" He stared indignantly at the cup's contents, trying to see past the suspicious-looking film at the top of the brew. Sergeant Nelson shook his head and set the cup aside, picking up the newly-delivered paper. "No coffee, no breaks, no rest. How did I end up being S-4 again? Ah, whatever. Back to the grind, I guess..."

**Okay, question time! These first ones are just things I thought you people might want to know. The reader ones are saved for the end. Enjoy!**

**-Where did you get the idea for Doors of Fire?**

Well, I've been a World War 2 nut/historian since I was about twelve years old. There was just something about such a large conflict, involving so many people and places that got me completely hooked. That, along with me picking up the Redwall series just two years ago after remembering the TV series as a kid, became my passions. At first, I thought it would be just a little too sue-ish to try, but after a while of debating I decided to just try it out and see what came of it. Thirteen chapters later, here we are!

**-The title of this story seems a little obscure. Mind explaining?**

Sure thing, random-reader-I-just-made-up-to-answer-this-question, I don't mind at all! It came from a certain scene in Band of Brothers (Yes, I took that one idea), specifically Day of Days. I still remember watching it for the first time and seeing the scene where one of the DC-3's got hit, causing the fuel tanks to go up and literally flood the cabin and jump door with flames. It stuck with me ever since. I could only imagine what it would be like, being trapped in that metal tube while the fire roared around you. It made me realize that it took some real bravery to volunteer for something like that.

**-Where did you get the ideas for Samuel/Joseph/Tommy/Becker/Sagepaw/etc.? **

I'm probably not alone in the author spectrum when it comes to answering this question. Almost every character in the story is based on either people I know, people I have seen/heard, or a conglomerate of different things. I have found that making up characters out of thin air just detracts from them being them, sort of takes away the flair that reality-based characters have. And for the question I know that will follow, yes, Samuel is loosely based on myself. But I'm not that good of a shot. ;)

**-What do you do for fun besides writing?**

I'm a pretty avid hunter, but that obviously slacks off when it isn't September/November. I read a ton; military history, zombie stuff, Redwall (Hurr durr) stuff like Dies the Fire, that sort of thing. I run to keep in shape and prep for basic training. I also recently took up bow-making, which is _really _fun but _really _challenging at times. Oh, and I shoot quite a bit. Mostly shotgun and military surplus rifles like the Mosin Nagant and Mauser 98k.

Reader Questions:

**-From d1996: Where did you get the inspiration for DoF/Whence We Came? Or were they just random inspirations?**

Well, I said above where I got the idea/inspiration for DoF. Whence we Came actually WAS one of those completely out-of-the-blue ideas. Well, sort of. Part of it came from a dream (I kid you not) that I had. It wasn't really special, just a really nice landscape that looked like it might have come from Scotland or Norway. Really, that's where it all started. I thought it would be great practice to write descriptions of landscapes, and progressed from there. Things are still coming together in terms of story, but that's still "eyes-only".

**-From d1996: What's your opinion on sue-slaying? **

*Sighs exasperatingly* From what little experience I have in the Redwall FF community, this is the opinion I can gather: If an author is informed of their...less-than-appealing detailing/characters (Read: Gold swords, over-done descriptions, olde-english dialogue, all that jazz) and after multiple reviews agrees to change, then I say let 'em go. Who knows, they could become a great writer. But if they refuse to listen to advice or continue to eff with stories beyond their breaking point, drop 'em like its hot.

And as for the other question: Sure, sounds like fun. Hit me up in a message sometime.

**-From d1996: What's your opinion on the conflict in Afghanistan/Iraq?**

I'm going to keep this one short, since politics can be very touchy. The problem is, I tend to view a lot of world issues strictly through a tactical/strategic military point of view. So take these opinions for what they're worth. I support the troops no matter what. Iraq can still be won, at least from a military/political point of view. Afghanistan, at least from a military objective standpoint, is over. The Russians couldn't do it, the British couldn't do it, and we probably can't. Now that doesn't mean it isn't a worthy cause. And like I said, I back the troops full-force. The objectives are what are in question.

**-From d1996 (You like asking questions, huh? ;): What job do you want in the military?**

To those that don't know, I'm enlisting in the U.S. Army in two years, after finishing high school. If I can meet the requirements (I have really bad vision) I'm going infantry. If not, small arms technician, also known as armorer, is my second choice.

**-From d1996: What's your favorite gun?**

That's like asking what someone's favorite hair on their head is, but I'll give it a shot.

Rifles: Sig Sauer 556, or the Mosin Nagant 1891/30. I own the latter, so I'm a bit biased.

Handguns: Colt 1911, Sig Sauer P226, or Ruger GP100.

Shotguns: Remington 870, hands down. I also own one of these. :) Saiga 12, if I really want to mess some stuff up.

**From I'm indefinite: How old are you?**

PEDOPHILE! No, just kidding. 17, almost 18.

**From Killy-S: Why did you choose to keep the vermin vs. good beast division?**

-Excellent question! Mostly from a simplicity standpoint. As this whole story is a kind of trial to see how it will go, I wanted to keep most of the antagonist/protagonist elements pretty straight-forward. However, and I'm not making any promises here, this may change a little bit in the future. You'll just have to keep reading to find out, won't you?

**From wartyg: Did it cost you a little piece of yourself to write the romance part in chapter 13 of DoF?**

-You have no idea. I'm still recovering, drinking juice boxes and munching on pretzels all day. The morphine also helps.

Well, I hope you all enjoyed this little Q&A session! I may do one of these much later in the story, near the end (wherever that may be) If your question didn't get answered here, feel free to put in a review or message me.

I would also like to take this time to thank all the people who have reviewed and helped me so much with this story. d1996, Killy-S, I'm Indefinite, A fallen Tree, Jyrfalcon345, Damon96, T, and 75knicksallday, thank you all so much for the advice and criticisms you have given me, and for putting up with my horrible updating pattern and various BS I've struggled through. Without the readers and reviewers, none of this would be possible. Thank you!

That's about it for now. Keep an eye out for Chapter 15, and please keep reading!

-John Nelson, AKA Patchyman.


	15. Chapter 15 Valoar

Hey everyone! No, I'm not dead, and no, my brain did not leak out of my ears. You will all be happy to hear that AP tests are finally over with, so I have a bit more free time than as of these past few weeks. That _hopefully _will mean more chapters of both Doors of Fire and Whence we Came, but we'll see how things go.

And just so you know, this chapter was written very slowly and over the course of about two weeks, so it may come out a little different, but we'll see.

Enjoy, and please R&R!

* * *

The rain had come and gone that night, leaving the morning cold but fresh. Samuel was up and about with most of the other soldiers, save for those who had been tasked with guard duty. He stopped by the Orchard, where Grigory had been buried the night before. The grave had been placed at the end of a large row of trees, gravestone surrounded by a myriad of flowers. Taking a knee, Samuel removed his helmet and rubbed the granite marker with a paw. A simple inscription had been chiseled into its face.

_Grigory, of the Shelavik shrew tribes. _

_Father, husband, warrior._

_Died fighting for freedom, equality, and peace._

_Gone from us, never forgotten._

Samuel felt a stabbing twinge of grief, but knew that he wouldn't break down. He had already shed too many tears, and he had realized that if Grigory were still here the shrew would have been appalled at his behavior, telling him to stop sniveling and fight! Samuel allowed himself a smile as he stood back up and saluted the marker, standing at rigid attention. He said a brief prayer, and then set off to his station.

As he walked towards the battlement stairs, Sagepaw appeared out of the gatehouse. Samuel stopped in his tracks, taken aback by what he saw. The sergeant was red-eyed and filthy with sweat and dirt. He walked unsteadily, almost as if he were drunk. Samuel was unsure of what to do as the squirrel approached him.

Sagepaw stood on slightly trembling legs, unable to look into Samuel's eyes. "You were right," he said, in a voice that sounded like he had eaten sandpaper. "They weren't soldiers; they shouldn't have been out there. It was my fault. Grigory is dead because of me. I'm not fit to lead you anymore." He reached up to his shoulder, where the sergeant's stripes were attached to the uniform, starting to tear them off.

Samuel stayed his paw. "No, Sagepaw, it wasn't your fault. You said it yourself. They wanted to come, they knew the risks. There wasn't anything you could have done. Grigory's dead and there's nothing we can do to change that. Besides, he probably would have gone with or without your permission. Now get yourself together, this place needs a leader."

It was as if Sagepaw had been slapped. His eyes seemed to clear almost instantaneously as he drew himself to full height. "Um...thanks, Samuel. I needed that. It just feels like I should have been able to stop it. I never thought I'd lose anybeast." He actually guffawed, offering a wry grin. "Stupid, huh? This is war, after all. It was bound to happen."

"Yes, it was." Samuel said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now come on, you've got work to do. And I've got wall duty. Are you sure you'll..."

Sagepaw nodded resolutely. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Just keep an eye peeled for anything suspicious. Those beasts from the western shore are supposed to be rolling through any day now, and would make _wonderful _sighting practice for any vermin artillery crews in the area."

Samuel nodded. "Got it. The crew and I'll keep watch. Take care of yourself, Sarge."

They walked away from each other, Samuel walking up the rickety wall steps and plopping down next to Tommy, who was busy putting the finishing touches on a sun-shade he was building on the battlement. It was just a few wooden slats and cordage, but the mouse seemed to be incapable of getting the overhanging piece of board to stay in place. He swore and jostled the contraption about, trying to get it to stay.

In one quick movement, Samuel reached across and pulled a few cords, tied them to a suitable spot, and smiled as the astonished look spread across Tommy's face. "How on earth did you..."

He shrugged. "My dad and I used to make little things like that all the time. We made something pretty close for our tractor, so it was more comfortable on sunny days."

Tommy grinned and sat in his newly-provided shade. "I'll tell you what, Samuel. Sometimes it's good having a hick like you around."

He laughed as the squirrel punched him on the shoulder. Within a matter of moments they were wrestling and fighting, although none of it was for real. They nearly rolled off the wall's edge until Joseph caught the two. "'Old on there, mates," the big otter said, lifting them both back up onto the ledge. "Now none o' that, otherwise no dinner fer you naughty tykes," he feigned an old ottermum's voice, squinting one eye and wagging a finger sternly.

Samuel couldn't stop himself from smiling. His mother used to say the same thing when he was younger while playing with friends. The threat of not eating always made them stop whatever mischief they had been into. "I can still remember some of my mom's cooking," he said, licking his lips hungrily. "Fresh-baked wheat bread every morning, cheese and noodles cooked in the oven, loads of fresh syrup for waffles..."

Tommy closed his eyes, doing some reminiscing of his own. "There was nothing like my mom's homemade stew. Fresh tomato and celery, some fish from the harbor caught that day and grilled up nice and golden brown..."

"Piles of butter-dripping scones for breakfast..."

"Plates of sweet fruit 'n cream salad..."

"Enough 'otroot soup and fresh-brewed root beer to drown yerself in..."

Pangil, who had been looking out over the woodlands with a set of binoculars, couldn't contain himself any longer. "Will you bunch of slack-jawed menaces kindly put a BLOODY SOCK IN IT?" He nearly shouted, grinding his teeth. "All that talk of bally wonderful scoff, just sittin' there for the taking! Oh, 'tis too much for the likes of famished ol' me!"

"Oh, quiet you old feed-bag." Tommy said, grinning. "Wait, what was that?"

Pangil's ears came to attention as he noticed the tone in the mouse's voice. "What is it, lad?"

Tommy pretended to strain his hearing, shutting both eyes and motioning for everybeast to be quiet. "Oh, no! It's a whole squad of tanks, headed straight this way!"

Pangil had already opened his mouth to shout the alarm when Tommy spoke up again. "Wait, wait just a second...Oops, silly me. It was just Pangil's stomach."

The trio burst into side-splitting laughter as the hare cast a murderous eye towards them. "Bloomin' cads, the whole lot of you!" He said, shaking a clenched paw. "How I got stuck with you bunch of flamin' miscreants I'll never know!" Shaking with indignation, Pangil went back to the wall and scoured the horizon with his binoculars. "Bloody hell,'s like leadin' a bunch of dibbuns. Makin' fun of a chap's lack ah scoff, it ain't right!"

Tommy was about to ease Pangil's sore ego when something caught his eye on the gray morning sky, just to the east. He was up in a flash. "Pangil, to your two o' clock. Coming in hot, barely over the treetops."

"Got ya, laddie." The hare was already turned and focusing the binoculars. "Hold on just a tick, have it in a second..." After a moment of tense silence, the hare set the optics down. "It's just a bird, you lot. One of ours, by the looks of 'im. Samuel, find somebeast to tell Sagepaw. This featherbag looks important."

Samuel turned around and yelled to a few soldiers taking their respite near the abbey pond, just a few paces away. "You three, go get the sergeant!" He called, waving a paw to get their attention. "Tell him there's a bird inbound, one of ours."

Two of them got up and jogged away as Samuel turned back to the wall, borrowing the hare's binoculars. He managed to catch a few glimpses of the bird as it screeched towards the abbey, zipping over the treetops at break-neck speed. "Looks like he's in a hurry," Samuel mused to himself. "Wonder where he's from."

As the bird drew close, it extended its wings and flared to a landing, clutching onto the battlements and gasping for breath. Samuel and his friends stared, dumbstruck, at the full-grown hawk. It was obvious that he had been flying for hours straight, if not days. His rust-hued feathers were matted with sweat and what looked like ash, no doubt from anti-air fire. A few words escaped between labored breaths. "Oi, be this...the abbey...they call...Redwall?"

Pangil nodded. "Sure as sunrise, sah. Sergeant Damien Pangil, 52nd Salamandastron parachute regiment."

The bird, finally regaining his breath, introduced himself. "Charles de Vanderwarf of the Mossflower Reconnaissance, at yar service. I bring a message for o'ever be a'runnin' this 'ere place."

Sagepaw appeared at the top of the steps, nodding a greeting to the bird and making his own introductions. Vanderwarf wasted little time, handing the squirrel a hard plastic case he had been clutching in one talon. "'tis from the invasion force commandin' officer. The lot'll be 'ere quicker than yah can down a bowl of me aunt Sally's pie, if'n yah can get past 'er dinner!" He laughed; a strange melody of cawing and screeching.

After scanning the message a few moments, Sagepaw sighed and ran a paw over his face. "Mind me asking you a question, Mister Vanderwarf?"

He shook his head. "Not 'tall, me heartie. Fire away!"

"About how long did it take you to fly from the invasion force to here?"

Vanderwarf cocked his head to one side, thinking for a moment. "Oh, not more'n three 'ours I'd wage-ah."

Sagepaw could hardly keep his voice under control. "This message says they'll be here in four hours from time of writing. And if it took you three hours, we've got an hour to secure the area. Doesn't leave us a whole lot of damn room."

"Uh, Sergeant..." Sagepaw turned to face Samuel, who was leaning over the parapet with a set of binoculars. "You may want to look at this."

He took the optics and lifted them to his eyes. Within a matter of seconds, he was rounding on the bird. "Get your tail in the air, now! I want a report of the area within ten square miles, you've got twenty minutes! If you see any vermin guns, do what you can."

Obviously surprised by the outburst, Vanderwarf blinked curiously. "And why do I need tah do such a thing?"

Sagepaw couldn't restrain himself any longer. He got an inch away from the bird's face, yelling as loudly as his lungs could manage. "Because the entire invasion force is coming to us, and we haven't a single damn clue as to what's around! Move your ass, bird! I want movement, now!"

The hawk yelped in surprise as Sagepaw nearly shoved him off the wall. Muttering under his breath as Vanderwarf flew off, Sagepaw turned to Samuel and the others, who were surprised by the outburst. "I want you four to gather a squad and head out to the path. Wait there until the convoy shows up. When they do, pull guard duty and watch the forest. If these vermin have even the slightest idea of what's coming, they'll be raining fire on us before we can get anybeast to safety. Move!"

Sagepaw's orders were quickly followed by the thudding of boots on the wall steps, and Tommy's shouting to a few soldiers coming out of the mess hall. "On me, we need to get out to the path! The invasion fleet is almost here!"

Somebeast opened the side gate, and the dozen or so sky-jumpers rushed outside. As Samuel took a cursory glance about him, he immediately noticed two Redwallers with them, dressed in only fragments of uniforms. Memories of that fated night sent a shiver down Samuel's back. _Not again, _he prayed silently as they sprinted towards the path. _Please, not again._

It began to rain as they came upon the road. Glancing about furtively, Samuel motioned with his paws for everybeast to get on either side of the path. Those that didn't understand were shuffled into position by more experienced creatures. They hid in the thick clumps of brush and grass, some glancing up at the sky as more and more drops began to fall. Soon the sound of the rain drumming against the leaves was almost deafening. Samuel looked at his watch. 14:22 hours. They should be here by now.

Almost as if on cue, the rumbling and creaking of heavy vehicles could be heard around the bend in the path, taking a sharp turn to the left about a hundred paces down the road. Gesturing with his paws for everybeast to stay in cover, Samuel crawled up onto the dirt trail and fumbled around in a pocket until finding what he was looking for. Holding the marker-sized flare straight up, Samuel bent his head down and fired, feeling the sparks bounce off his helmet.

The green-speckled ball of fire sputtered a little at first, but quickly shot up and into the sky, detonating just a moment later with a pop and burst of embers. He looked back up as the first vehicles began to roll around the corner, wary but obviously grateful to see the friendly signal. Troops marching alongside the tanks and vehicles raised their rifles in salute, whooping and hollering in joy.

Tommy joined him on the road, slinging his rifle. "Some party, huh?"

Samuel smiled, nodding. "We sure could have used those tanks a few weeks ago. That would've put some fear into the vermin."

The mouse returned the grin, gesturing with a paw. "Well, we don't want to keep 'em waiting."

As they were still about fifty paces away, somebeast stepped forward out of the vehicles and walked briskly towards them. Samuel was floored to see the massive, hulking badger approaching. He was in a normal infantry beast's uniform, with a lighter jacket color and no ankle-high jump boots, but still cut an intimidating figure nonetheless. "What in the..."

Tommy murmured out of the corner of his mouth. "For the love of all that's Holy, Samuel, don't forget to call this beast sir."

They saluted sharply as the badger met them, towering over them from a good five feet away. "Sir!" They nearly shouted, standing at rigid attention. "Private first class Melton and Corporal Mariano, standing by for orders, sir!"

The black and gray-furred badger saluted in return. "At ease, you two. You're with the airborne operation, I'm assuming?"

Samuel nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

"Looks like you boys did a hell of a job," He said, glancing over the squirrel's shoulder towards the abbey. "Glad you're on our side."

The two soldiers beamed with pride. "Thank you, sir!"

After a moment of uneasy silence, the badger couldn't resist any longer. "You know, you boys look like hell!" He chortled laughter, planting a massive paw on each of their shoulders and guiding them back to the abbey. The rest of their squad got up out of the ditch and followed alongside the tanks. "Nothing wrong with that, I suppose, especially after what your regiment has accomplished."

Samuel took a quick glance down at his fatigues. It was true; he hadn't even changed out of the uniform since dropping in. The knees were scuffed and torn, and it seemed every inch of cloth was covered in dirt, water, or sweat stains. And he knew that he probably didn't smell too great, either.

They reached the Abbey gates a few minutes later, being greeted by waves of happy Redwallers and relieved sky-jumpers. The crowd whooped and hollered with joy, trying to shake the soldiers' paws and embrace them. It looked just like when they had been rescued before, only now their freedom was assured.

Samuel threw another salute as the badger approached. "May I ask who the commanding officer here is, private?" He said, almost having to shout over the noise.

"That would be Sergeant Sagepaw," Samuel replied, pointing over to where the other squirrel was meeting with a few of the Redwallers. "He's been the highest-ranking beast here since we dropped in, sir. That or Sergeant Pangil of the Salamandastron 52nd is around somewhere."

The badger's eyes widened. "Salamandastron 52nd? How'd they end up all the way up here?"

"Our whole fleet got scattered, sir. We hit flak coming in and the whole plan...well, frankly sir, the whole plan went to hell in a pawbasket. Nobeast knew how the rest of the invasion went until a few days ago."

At first, the badger almost seemed angry. But he took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. "Sorry, private. I'm going to have a chat with some of the commanding officers about that. They should have at least considered something like flak. But, it isn't your fault. Or anybeast's else who's here. Listen, private, I think me and my troops can handle things for a little while. Go tell your sergeant that he and his beasts can take a break. Get some food...and a bath while you're at it." He smiled, holding out a paw for Samuel to shake.

Samuel did so, curious when he felt the badger slip something into his own paw. He turned it over to reveal a yellow stripe, made of thick cloth. "I think it's the least I can do for now, corporal Melton." The badger said. "That, and offer you and your friends a bit of rest."

He smiled, throwing another salute. "Thank you, sir! I won't let you down, sir!"

Grinning, the badger did likewise. "I'm sure you won't, corporal. Now go get something to eat, that's an order!"

"_Corporal _Melton? Hmm, sounds very official."

"Ha, it's not really. Just a step up from private. I'm not even in charge of anybeast yet."

"I'm sure you will be, someday. You're a wonderful leader, Samuel."

"I hope you're right."

"Oh, don't be silly! Of course you will be."

Samuel couldn't stop himself from smiling, and laughing as Penny kissed him on the cheek again. As per the badger officer's instructions, now known to everybeast as Captain Rockeye, Samuel had finally gotten around to cleaning himself and his uniform. He had met with Penny after hours of scrubbing and washing, and had agreed to have some lunch with her and some of the Redwallers in the Great Hall, along with all of the sky-jumpers. Joseph and Tommy were still teasing him, sitting in an opposite table and making kissing gestures at him and Penny.

She took a sip of her October ale as he dug into another pastie. "I'm just glad to see you finally relax, Samuel. These past few weeks it seems like you've constantly been nervous, all coiled up like a spring."

Samuel could only shrug and try to talk past the mouthful of food. "Ish jus' part of i' all, I guesh."

Penny giggled, wiping away a splotch of sauce on his cheek. "I'm sure your mother would be happy to see you behaving like that. Talking with your mouth full, such bad manners!"

He grinned, taking a swig of the ale. "When you live with a group of soldiers for months on end, manners take a back seat to eating. But you're probably right. My mum'd probably give me a nice smack upside the head for something like that. She was always quick with her ruler." He scowled, doing a very believable impression of his own mother. "Samuel James Melton! How many times do I have to tell you? Don't wipe your paws on those clean pants like that! I'll get the yardstick, so help me I will!"

Penny was in stitches, holding onto her side as tears of laughter poured from her eyes. "Heeheehee, your mother sounds like a real hahaha tyrant hahaha!"

Samuel smiled lopsidedly. "She wasn't that bad. It's been a long time since I've seen her, or my dad for that matter." He lowered his eyes slightly. "I...I really hope I'll get to again."

He felt Penny grasp his paw. "Samuel," She said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. "You'll get home, and I'll be waiting when you come back. I promise."

Samuel couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Thanks, Penny." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, which promptly set of a chorus of retching and choking sounds from Joseph and Tommy.

"Gah, not in front of the dibbuns!"

"Sammy an' Penny, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I..."

"ALL BEASTS! ATTEN-SHUN!"

Every soldier, and even a few Redwallers, immediately leapt to their feet. Standing at the back of the Hall was Captain Rockeye, with two of his Lieutenants nearby. One of them raised his voice in order to be heard. "Everybeast listen up. You've got a briefing from Captain Rockeye."

The badger nodded to him. "Thank you, Lieutenant. First off, I want to extend a thank-you to Abbot Carmen and all the beasts of Redwall Abbey who have helped us in these past weeks. Without your hospitality and kindness, we wouldn't have gotten far.

"Secondly, to all the sky-jumpers present; I haven't seen such a disorganized, foul-mouthed, insane bunch of soldiers in all my days." And as the tension grew: "I suppose I should be happy you're on our side. Nice job, all of you."

The cry went up from every single one of them. "Hoo-ah, sir!"

Rockeye allowed himself a small grin as he continued. "It's pretty safe to say that if you boys hadn't been here, my armor would be in quite the predicament. Enjoy tonight, everybeast. You earned it."

A rousing cheer went up, followed by the clinking of glasses and beakers together. Rockeye smiled before sitting down with some of the Redwallers, obviously discussing something important by the looks on their faces.

But Samuel and his friends were far too engaged in other matters to care. Somebeast had produced a fiddle, seemingly from nowhere. They played a quick, paw-tapping tune and sang heartily. Most of the lyrics were lost over the noises of dancing and laughing, but it was the thought that mattered, anyway. Samuel danced with Penny, spinning and leaping with her in time the beat. Both of them laughed giddily, each trying to keep in time with the rhythm. By the time the song was finished, they had collapsed on a bench panting with effort. Samuel took a drink from a glass of October Ale. "Whew, it's been a while since I've danced!"

Penny grinned as she plucked the beaker from his hand and did likewise. "Same with me," she said, looking out over the crowd with joyful eyes. "It's been a while since we've been this happy; much less had reason to dance."

Samuel nodded, starting to lose himself in thought. After a while, Penny noticed the blank expression on his face. "Samuel, what's the matter?"

"Nothing's wrong, just a passing thought."

"What's that?"

He took a breath. "Penny, has Martin ever...ever spoken to anybeast? In a dream, I mean?"

Penny's eyes widened, and she leaned a bit closer to him. "Martin spoke to you? This could be important, Samuel. What did he say?"

Samuel told her of the dream he had had some days before. Penny kept her gaze fixed on him the whole time, listening intently. When he had finished, she was rubbing her chin and humming contemplatively. "What?" He asked. "Do you know what it could mean?"

"No," She said, grabbing his paw and leaping to her feet. "But I know somebeast who might. Come on!"

Penny took off, Samuel in tow, out of the Great Hall and out onto the lawn. The rain had stopped earlier that day, leaving the grass damp but not slippery. Samuel tried to ask where she was going, but all he got for his troubles was a "You'll see in a minute."

The arrived at their destination, the gatehouse, and stopped. Penny knocked on the door, which was shortly followed by a startled yelp. "Coming, coming!" Said a small, elderly voice.

A gray-furred, spectacle-wearing mouse opened the door. She wore one of the traditional abbey robes, and while her frame may have been small, her eyes were full of energy. "Ah, Penny!" She said, giving the squirrelmaid a hug. "How are you? Shouldn't you be enjoying the feast?"

Penny motioned to Samuel. "This is Samuel, Miss Caroline. He has something important you need to hear."

She smiled, taking Samuel's paw and leading them both inside. "Honestly, Penny, I don't see why you insist on calling me 'Miss' Caroline. Carol would be perfectly alright." She allowed Samuel to sit in one of the wicker armchairs placed around the clean, well-kept gatehouse. "Would you like anything, dear? Scones, tea, coffee?"

He shook his head politely. "No, thank you, ma'am. I'm alright."

The elderly mouse sat down across from him, picking up a teacup from the table between them. "Well, then, down to business then? Penny tells me you have something important to tell me."

"Yes, ma'am." He said, subconsciously trying to remember everything his mother had taught him about talking to an elderly beast. "It started about two weeks ago, I was..."

She held up a paw. "Excuse me, dear, but there's no need to be so formal." Caroline smiled, taking a sip of her tea. "I can't stand being addressed like that. I had four children, you see. I was always called mum or Carol by the other mothers. But please, continue."

Samuel couldn't stop himself from grinning slightly as he told her the story, from the first dream he had had days before assaulting the abbey, to the terrifying visions not long after. Caroline listened intently the whole time, leaning back in her chair.

"...and that's been it." Samuel finished, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry there's not much, but that's everything I've seen."

Caroline stood up from her chair and made her way to a large bookshelf. "Oh, don't you fret, dearie. There's plenty there. It's quite amazing, actually. Martin still guides our warriors, even to this day. Even from our Abbey's founding, he's always been there to help us." Her fingers danced over the book spines, finally settling on one and pulling it away from the others. "Ah, here we go. The story of Matthias the Warrior and his defeat of Cluny the Scourge, one of our first chronicles. This was the only time our Abbey had fallen to an enemy, and even then it was for a single day. Well, at least until...you know."

Penny and Samuel both nodded as Caroline opened the book, scanning a few pages. "Yes...yes, it's still here. You see, Samuel," she said, closing it. "Martin has always guided our finest warriors in time of struggle or combat. After so many instances of violence, despite our best attempts to avoid it, most beasts here have learned that it isn't wise to ignore Martin's words."

He frowned. "But I'm not even from Mossflower, let alone a beast of Redwall. Why would he choose to speak to me? Besides, I'm just one soldier out of hundreds. What makes me different?"

Caroline smiled gently. "Nobeast has the answer to that, Samuel. But I can tell you this much for sure: You are bound for great things, whether good or bad I cannot say."

Samuel tried to hide his disappointment. _Not much difference from what Martin told me. _But he tried to smile as he stood and shook Caroline's paw. "Thank you, ma...Caroline. It was a pleasure meeting you."

The mouse waved as they departed. "Have a nice day, Corporal!"

Wandering back to the abbey, Penny took Samuel's paw in her own. "That didn't help much, did it?" She asked sheepishly after a few moments.

"Don't worry, Penny, it's not your fault. I'm thankful for any help I can get in this. But I'm still surprised that Martin...chose me, of all beasts. Sagepaw or Tommy could probably do this better. They're both better fighters, for one, and they've led beasts in combat before. I just follow orders and try not to get sh...hurt."

She squeezed his paw. "Now, I don't want to hear any of that. You're a wonderful soldier, Samuel, better than most for that matter. You've got something not many have."

He couldn't resist a jibe. "What? More blisters on my paws that fur? Because I'm pretty sure everybeast has those."

Penny laughed, but stopped walking and turned him to look into her eyes. "You have a heart, Samuel. I heard about what you did for Grigory's family. I'm not sure many other beasts would have had that sort of courage. Martin has shown us time and time again that there is more to being a warrior than fighting. It takes compassion and love, along with courage. I'm pretty sure you match all of those," she said, winking and giving him a peck on the cheek, which immediately turned his face red.

"Thanks, Penny, I...um, I guess I'm just a bit overwhelmed. Things just seem to be going so fast that..."

A piercing whistle cut him off. Samuel turned, to see one of Rockeye's aides standing on a bench and waving his paws. "Sky-jumpers and mechanized infantry, listen up! General meeting in Cavern Hole, fifteen minutes! It's important, so don't be late!"

Samuel let out a sigh under his breath, turning back to Penny. "I'd better get going. They had a saying in boot camp: If you're on time, you're late."

She gave him another kiss. "That's alright, we can catch up later. Say hello to Joseph for me!"

He waved good-bye and headed off, passing a few other sky-jumpers on their way to the briefing. Each of them had the same look on their face as Samuel. Tense, withdrawn, but not scared. Apprehensive, perhaps, but not scared.

Cavern Hole was already filling by the time Samuel arrived. Beasts were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, each trying to get a good view of the impromptu stage that had been set up against one wall. He managed to jostle into a spot where he could see what was going on, but it was still tight. At least he didn't have to stand next to a hedgehog, Samuel thought with a small grin.

They waited for just a few moments before the deep, thudding pawsteps of Captain Rockeye could be heard approaching. Everybeast immediately shot to attention as the badger climbed up onto the stage and stood near a map-table, covered with a sheet. "At ease, all of you. Have a seat." His voice was strained slightly, almost reluctant to tell these soldiers whatever it was that needed to be said.

After quiet settled over the crowd, Rockeye tucked his paws behind his back and began pacing back and forth, speaking as he did so. "As I'm sure you're all aware," he began. "We have struck a major victory for not only Mossflower, but every peaceable and kind-hearted creature that lives today. Faction troops have been driven out of these woodlands and Redwall Abbey as well. None of this would have been possible without your courageous actions and valiant hearts. Every one of you here today has my personal, undying gratitude for the actions undertaken in these past weeks.

"But a problem still remains," he said, approaching the sheet-covered display. In one tug, the entire cover slid off to reveal a large map of Mossflower woods and the surrounding area, including a yellow splotch about ten inches away from the symbol indicating Redwall, which meant ten miles between them. "That problem," he said, tapping the yellow splotch with a claw. "Is this, right here. The town of Valoar, just to the northeast of the Abbey. As of now, it is still under the control of Faction troops. This town will determine whether we keep the land with which we have fought so hard for, or lose it all. As you can see," he said, gesturing to the city's position, "Valoar was built directly around the road that leads to, and over, the River Moss. This means that we are effectively cut off from any contact with the north, and that passage from one end of the river to the other is nearly impossible. Obviously, this presents a major problem for our supply and troop ships."

Rockeye looked back to the crowd facing him, which now watched with wide eyes and baited breath. "We have to take that town."

Samuel felt a lead weight drop into the pit of his stomach. Even though it looked meager, Samuel knew from studying the maps from before they dropped in that Valoar was much bigger than it seemed on paper. He could recall the first village they had come across, with just him, Joseph, and Tommy. It had been a living hell. And that fox, staring at him with dead eyes, pleading for mercy...

He flinched as Rockeye's booming voice cut through the murmurings starting to spread throughout the assembly. "I realize what you're all thinking," he said, after things had calmed down. "Believe me, this is no easy decision. But I have been guaranteed both naval and air support for this mission, which can be called in at a moment's notice.

"Now, there are three major objectives that must be accomplished in order for this mission to succeed. For one, there are two major bridges that run through the center of the town." He gestured to the duo of symbols which passed over the river, each one looking like a series of interlocking X's. "These will allow us to not only move across the river during the fight, but transfer supplies when it is taken as well. Secondly," He moved his paw to the northeast corner of the city. "The industrial district. Currently, the Faction is using it to mass produce weapons and material for their forces in the area. Our job is going to be to not only take it, but take it _intact. _A burned-out factory won't be much help to us, will it?" He continued after a series of nods from the audience. "The third and final objective is this." Rockeye moved his paw to the left, just across the road leading through Valoar. "This is the military complex. Every armory, every barracks, every bit of Faction military capability, at least in the area, is here. I don't need to tell you that turning this place into a smoldering hole in the ground is just fine." He waited for the nervous chuckles to die down before stepping away from the map and taking one last look at the crowd.

"I won't lie to you," he said, in a much more somber voice than before. "This is going to be tough. We're going to lose beasts, and the fighting is going to be hard. But we cannot lose our momentum. If we become bogged down in the streets and buildings, everything is lost. Movement and aggressive action are going to be the only ways we stay ahead in this one."

He took a breath before saluting. The entire crowd stood and did likewise, only relaxing when the badger had done so as well. "Company commanders; stay behind so we can get a plan together. The rest of you, get yourselves squared away. We've got ammo supplies coming in a few hours, so make sure you load up. Try to get some rest; you'll be notified as to when we're going. Dismissed."

Everybeast was immediately on their paws, talking and filing out of Cavern Hole. Some looked excited, some understandably nervous, and others downright terrified. Samuel was none of those. He simply shuffled along with everybeast else, a blank look on his features. The refreshing morning air hit him like a slap to the face, however, as they finally got outside and dispersed.

He stumbled over to a nearby bench and collapsed into it, trying to stop the dizziness which had started to turn the world upside-down. Taking a few shaky breaths, Samuel finally settled enough to look up from the ground and try and calm down. _It's just another mission, _he told himself. _Just some marching and maybe a couple minutes of fighting. All I have to do is remember what the Captain said. Keep moving and don't stop. Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving..._

"Sammy, ye alright?"

Samuel flinched as Joseph's voice reached his ears. He forced a smile as the otter sat next to him. "Yeah, I'm, uh, fine. Just thinking."

The otter gave him a look. "Come on, Sammy, I know ye, and I know those twiddlin' fingers o' yores."

He looked down, just noticing the frantic, twitching movements his fingers were making. Clenching them tightly, he sighed. "I don't know why, Joseph, but...but I've got a bad feeling about this one."

Joseph wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Ye've always got'a bad feelin' about summat, Sammy. Jus' nerves, is all."

Samuel nodded, trying to force the dread back down his throat. "You're probably right. I'm just, well, I'm scared, Joseph."

"Like I said 'afore, we're all scared, mate. Jus' don't let it get t'ye. Now come on, I gotta clean Bertha. She ain't seen a brush in two weeks." His otterfriend stood, hauling Samuel to his feet. "Ye know more about those things than me. 'sides, it'll be good fer ye to think about somethin' else fer a while." They immediately set off towards the dormitories, Samuel wondering about what his future might hold.


	16. Chapter 16 The One With Green Eyes

I am terribly, terribly sorry it's been so long! Once again, school and personal laziness/writer's block got in the way. I'll try and avoid that next time and update sooner. Once again, my fault.

Anyway, interesting stuff this chapter. Something on Pangil's mind, secrets revealed, and more corny drama scenes that I need to practice on.

Anyway, R&R! I probably don't deserve it after leaving you guys for such a long time, but...

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As he had expected, Samuel didn't sleep a wink that night. All he could do was toss and turn, fruitlessly trying to shut off the constant stream of thoughts and fear running through his head. After a while, he sighed in frustration and threw the blankets off, getting up and heading down to the Great Hall. The pale light of early morning was just beginning to creep in through the windows as he wandered into the kitchen, filling a cup from the large tea kettle, which was constantly kept over the coals for any late-night guards.

"Nothing like a hot cup o' tea, eh wot?" Samuel jumped, nearly dropping the cup at the sudden voice. He spun around to see Sergeant Pangil leaning against the stone wall, with his own cup of the steaming drink.

Sighing in relief, Samuel managed to regain his composure. "I just thought I'd get something to drink. I...uh, haven't been able to sleep, really."

"Thinkin', I suppose?"

"Yeah, um...thinking. About the mission."

The hare nodded. "Understandable. Bloody dangerous, if you ask me. Those bridges'll be the tough part. Bally vermin can just blow 'em sky-high at the first sign of us."

Samuel stared into his cup. "Rockeye will think of something. At least, we can hope. Are you going out with us?"

The hare chuckled. "O' course I am laddie buck! Wouldn't miss it for the world, wot wot? There isn't a better place fer me an' Betsy. Long streets, lots of hidin' spots, doorways, perfect atmosphere. As long as we don't run into any...ah, bigger targets, eh?"

Samuel drummed his fingers against the cup. "That's what worries me. I know it's not my jobto ask questions, being a Corporal and all, but those streets don't seem to be the right place for Rockeye's tanks. If the vermin have any idea of what's coming, they'll have wired the entire place to be one giant inferno." He shuddered at the thought, wondering what it would be like to be caught in one of those metal tombs as the flames grew around him.

Pangil nodded grimly. "I was thinkin' the same thing. Jolly cramped, that lot. Not much room for that bally armor to move."

Both of them grew quiet, the only sound coming from the snapping fireplace. Finally, Samuel looked at Pangil with a curious look on his face. "Sergeant, do you mind me asking why you're up?"

The hare shuffled awkwardly, looking into the cup. "Ah, same as you, lad. Couldn't get a wink of shut-eye."

Samuel nodded, continuing the conversation for the sake of it. "Bad dreams?"

He was met with silence. Looking back up, Samuel was worried to see a blank, aimless stare plastered on the hare's face. "Pangil? Are you alright?"

He sputtered a bit, seeming to wake up from a deep slumber. "Bah! I, uh...oh, yes, perfectly alright, wot wot? Just a bit...Sammy, do you take any offense to me telling you something a bit, eh, personal?"

Samuel shrugged. "Go ahead."

The hare leant against the wall, speaking quietly after a few moments of deep thought. "Do you remember what I said just the day after we dropped in, about killin' vermin?"

He nodded.

"About how it wasn't the ones you get that haunt you, it's the one that...got away?"

Another nod.

Pangil took a breath. "I was still at the ol' Fire Mountain when the refugees were coming in from Mossflower, after the Faction showed their ugly faces. We were coverin' their retreat to the south, making sure they got past alright. Those vermin were shootin' at the bally civilians as they ran, trying to get as many as they could. We had been fighting our bally heads off all day, trying to save as many as we could.

"Me an' Betsy had just gotten ourselves onto the top of a ridge when I saw the bugger, just barely caught a glimpse of 'em. He had set up in a clump of dry grass not more'n a hundred yards from us. Nasty lookin' ferret, killing everything that walked past. I took a shot, pulled the bally thing too short. 'bout two inches from blowin' the filthy Rat's head off. He jumped up and ran, took a look 'afore he did it though. I can still see 'is face, with these glowin' green eyes. 's like he was lookin' right at me."

The hare stopped, finishing his parable. He had expected the squirrel to say something, even if it was just a grunt or short 'yes'. Instead, there was silence. Pangil turned to see Samuel staring blankly at the wall ahead of him, eyes wide as saucers and tea cup shaking as the paw holding it trembled. Even there, standing in the relative coolness of the room, a drop of sweat fell from his brow and landed on the floor.

Pangil looked at him, concerned. "Sammy? What's the matter, laddie buck?"

"Pangil," Samuel whispered, like he had seen a ghost. "That ferret...I...I know him. That's Karim."

For a moment, the hare bore the same expression as his friend. After a few moments, he found his tongue. "Sammy...you best not be yankin' my bloody leg. Now, think carefully. Are you sure?"

The squirrel nodded slowly. "Yes, I am. I saw those eyes; they were looking right at me. Bright, emerald green, just like you said. Pangil, that means..."

He finished the sentence. "Those blighters got somebeast inside our ranks." The hare sighed and flopped into a nearby chair, rubbing his brow with a paw. "Alright, what else do you know about 'im? Anythin's a help here."

Samuel told Pangil everything he had gathered about the ferret, through trembling lips. The Sergeant sat quietly, a simultaneously pensive and enraged look on his face. When he was finished, Pangil shook his head. "How in the bloody hell did they get him inside? And more importantly, what's the slime doing here? Have you seen him since before the invasion, Sammy?"

He shook his head. "No, nothing I can be sure of. I might have seen him that night we assaulted the abbey, but I don't know."

The hare stood up, trying to keep the anger in his voice under control. "This is a bloody fizzer, if'n you ask me. If he's run off and went back to the vermin...well, that's the best case scenario in my books. Maybe they get a bit of information, probably nothing special. But if he's still around, maybe hiding in Valoar..." he actually shuddered. "It doesn't bear thinkin' about."

"Why's that? It just means one more Rat to kill."

Pangil's eyes darkened for a moment. "Cities and the like are just one kill zone after another. Seal off the roads, force the enemy to move where you want 'em to, and when you've got 'em in place," He snapped his fingers. "Open fire. 's a sniper's paradise, I don't mind tellin' you."

They were both quiet, listening to the popping fireplace. Finally, Samuel opened his mouth. "What are we going to do about it?"

"Unfortunately, lad," Pangil said, leaning back resignedly in his seat. "There's not much we _can _do. At least, not until we find him, or he finds us."

The next day, Samuel found himself running helter-skelter to find supplies and make sure his equipment was in order. Unlike most beasts, however, he found himself enjoying it. The chaotic atmosphere helped him forget about what they were preparing for, about what could lay over the next horizon.

Joseph, on the other paw, spared no words when it came to complaining about how much they had to take along. He was standing at the foot of his bed in the dormitories with paws on his hips and an irritated look on his face.

"Let's see 'ere...helmet, web gear, ammunition and pouches, extra socks, frag and smoke grenades, bayonet, weapon cleanin' kit, first aid pouch, ration packs, cigarettes, lighter, matches, gum, dog tags, flares, poncho, poncho liner, two canteens, cold weather gloves...wait, what in the 'ell do I need cold weather gloves fer? It's autumn! Who's the idiot supply beast who came up wit' all this nonsense? I 'ope they don't expect us to actually fight wearin' this garbage."

Samuel couldn't help but laugh at Joseph's antics. "Don't blame me; I'm not the S-4. That's a question for Sagepaw."

The otter grumbled as he began stuffing equipment into his rucksack. "Oh I'll 'question' 'im alright. I'd like to see 'im carryin' all this!"

"Wish granted, private." They both jumped and turned to see Sagepaw, with full pack on his shoulders and weapon in hand, standing at the dormitory entrance. "Like Samuel said, blame the S-4. When you're done with that, there's a briefing in the library for our platoon. Tommy and some of the others are waiting."

Joseph gave him a two-fingered salute. 'Got ye, Sarge. Just give us a few minutes."

The squirrel grinned as he fingered the newly-sewn chevron on his jacket's shoulder. "That's Staff Sarge now, Cremshaw."

"Bah, ye ain't an officer yet. I can still make fun of ye without gettin' court-martialed."

Samuel shook his head and smiled as Sagepaw walked out. "He'd probably court-martial you anyway," he said, shouldering his pack.

Joseph waved a paw dismissively. "Nah, he wouldn't do such a thing." But the smile faded as he and Samuel made their way to the stairs. "Ye don't think he would, would he?"

The library was already bustling by the time Joseph and Samuel arrived. They found Tommy soon enough, leaning over a table. On it, a large map was spread out and tacked onto the wood. The mouse was looking over the maze of streets, alleys, and buildings with a look which could only be described as distaste. "It's official," he said after a moment, speaking over the dull roar of the crowd. "This is a cluster."

Samuel glanced over the diagram for himself to see. The map was one of Valoar, with some of the surrounding woods as well. As his eyes pored over the illustration, they started to grow. Countless intersecting streets, thin roads, multi-story structures...in other words, a small unit leader's nightmare.

A piercing whistle cut through the assembly's noise. Everybeast turned to look at Sagepaw, who was now standing at the head of the table. When things had quieted down sufficiently, the squirrel cleared his throat and began. "Good morning, 3rd platoon. I want to thank you for having the courtesy to drag your lazy tail-ends out of bed long enough to show up. It'd be awkward with just me standing here talking to thin air."

He continued after the nervous laugher subsided. "As I'm sure you're all aware, this is our next mission; to capture the city of Valoar. I won't bore you with the details that the Captain has already given out, so here's the gist of it all." He reached into a pocket and came out with a pawful of sewing thimbles, each with a number painted on the side, one through five. "3rd platoon, along with those from first through fifth, is tasked with securing the factory district of the town." He set the props down onto the area designated with a large circle, in the northeast corner of the city. "From what our intelligence has gathered in the past few days, we lucked out with this one. The Rats seem to be more interested in holding the bridges and military complex, which brings me to my next point."

He tapped the bridges sketched onto the map with a marker. "Without these, the entire plan could...well, it could go bad. If we give the vermin enough time to blow those things, we won't get across the river without suffering massive casualties in a crossing attempt. For the first part of the mission, our group will be attached to the remainder of the company in order to maximize combat effectiveness. The key to this entire operation is speed: If we don't get to the bridges in time, everything could be lost. Am I clear on that?" He said, looking out over the audience.

"Hooah!" The response was low and hard, not just everybeast trying to sound tough. They had a job, and they were going to do it right.

Sagepaw nodded and went on. "If...when the bridges are secured, we will move across before the Rats have time to mount a serious counterattack. Like I said before, speed is everything. Get across that bridge and keep moving, no matter what, until we hit the factories. Once we do that, it's just a matter of clearing out the stragglers and holding until the armored corps can punch through. We..."

Tommy raised his hand sharply. "Sarge, what do you mean 'until they punch through'? Aren't the tanks coming with?"

The sergeant let out a disappointed sigh. "I know you don't want to hear this, any of you, but, er...well, the tanks aren't going to support us, at least not in the start." He had to nearly shout to be heard over the sudden outbursts. "Hey, listen up! This wasn't my call. Rockeye says there's too many chokepoints and that the streets are too small for his armor to keep up the momentum. Once we start clearing roads, they'll move up along with our front, picking off any..."

"We'll be sitting ducks out there!"

"Yeah, those tanks are the only direct fire we'll get!"

"The good ol' cap'n's probably worried about scratchin' up his pretty liddle tanks, don't want t' get 'em all dinged up..."

"How are we going to clear out a city block without those guns? We'll get creamed!"

The next whistle was loud enough to make everybeast jump and grimace, covering their ears at the sharp tone. Sagepaw had to shout over their deafness. "Will everybeast just SHUT UP FOR A DAMN SECOND?"

Eventually, the murmuring died down. Sagepaw took a breath and started speaking as calmly as he could manage. "I don't have any sway in all this. Rockeye outranks pretty much everybeast here, so his rule goes. Besides, think about it. Those tanks won't be much good if they're bogged down in the rubble or knocked out by enemy rocket teams. And we've got the navy and land-based artillery on call for any fire missions for the next three days straight. If you need the big guns, get somebeast with a radio and bring down the hammer of God. Alright?"

Most of the crowd seemed to agree, although Tommy and some of the other squad leaders seemed a little more than skeptical. Not of Sagepaw's leadership abilities, but at the entirety of the plan. No direct heavy fire, possible ambushes around every corner, fragile objectives, none of it looked good.

Sagepaw cast his eyes downward for a moment before looking back up. When he spoke, it was obvious that his voice was strained with emotion. "We head out tonight at twenty-three hundred hours, along the path leading from the abbey. We'll spread out along the forest and head in. All I'm going to say is...well, just be careful, all of you. Watch your backs, and keep moving. That's all, you're dismissed. Squad leaders, stick around for a while. We're going to have to figure our way through this crock of bull..."

The rest of his words were lost as the crowd began to shuffle out of the library. Joseph and Samuel stopped outside the door, waiting for the tidal wave of beasts to subside. "Whaddya think?" He said after a moment.

Samuel shook his head. "I'm no high-ranking officer, but this whole scheme just seems a little hasty. No tanks, interlocking fields of fire, no back-up plans in case everything goes wrong, it's just not right."

Joseph grunted in acknowledgement. "Aye, my thoughts exactly. Mayhap it's got something t' do with Rockeye, bein' a badger an' all? Could be him tryin' to uphold the badger lore or some such."

The finally managed to squeeze their way through the mass of creatures and out onto the abbey lawn, where midmorning's sunlight was shining brightly. A few clouds dotted the southern horizon, but besides that, the sky was an un-marred canvas of blue. Samuel kept speaking as they walked. "Maybe, I can't be sure. He's not the beast I'm worried about, though."

Joseph looked at him quizzically. "What'ya mean?"

Samuel hung his head and related the story he had told to Pangil, about Karim being one of the Rats and infiltrating their ranks, and the possibility of encountering the sharpshooter in the city. When he had finished, Joseph's eyes were wide as saucers and he was breathing shallowly. "Mate," he whispered. "I ain't gonna sugar-coat it. If'n he's in Valoar...we're gonna lose beasts, a lot of 'em."

His friend nodded briefly. "I know." he murmured. "I just hope..."

He needn't finish the sentence. _I just hope it's not Joseph, or Tommy, or me._

They both rounded the corner near the entrance to Great Hall to see Penny outside, teaching a group of dibbuns how to properly tie a fishing line around the hook and spool. As was expected with many of the abbeybabes, most had either managed to ensnare their paws in the line or were fighting mock sword battles with the rods. Penny was having quite the time trying to keep them in line, running to and fro while still trying to maintain some semblance of order.

Joseph grinned a little. "I'll give ye some quality time wit' yer girlfriend. See ye tonight."

Samuel managed to kick him in the tail as the otter ran away, laughing. Samuel just shook his head and started towards the pond.

"Now that we have this part done, we'll...Josiah! We don't poke each other with the hooks. Now apologize to Mable and...Oh, Crecy, how did you manage _that? _Come now, let's get this untangled..."

One of the dibbuns, a young mousemaid, stumbled backwards with her footpaws snared in a jumble of fishing line. She had nearly fallen into the pond when Samuel caught her. Smiling a bit, he knelt and undid the thin string. "Here, that should do it. Now let's see Miss Penny, she'll know what to do with you, little scamp."

The mouse giggled and toddled back to Penny, who immediately looked up and spotted Samuel. She beamed, embracing him tightly as he approached. "Oh, thanks Samuel! It's a wonder I've been able to keep them in line so far."

He took her paw in his, walking alongside as she supervised the little ones. "Looks like you've done just fine so far. No dibbuns swallowing the weights, no misplaced worms, only a few pricked fingers..."

Penny chuckled as they stood in the warm midmorning sun. Things were quiet, with just the occasional birdcall or rustling of leaves to break up the monotony. Eventually, Penny looked up at Samuel's pensive expression. "Samuel, what's the matter?"

He shook his head briefly, like he was coming out of a deep sleep. "What? Oh, sorry, I was just...thinking..."

Her smiled faded a bit. "About what? Come on, Samuel, tell me, please."

There was another pause before he spoke. "Rockeye said...we're going into Valoar, to retake it from the Rats. Tonight, at eleven o' clock. It's, um...Penny, I don't know how to say this..."

He felt her squeeze his paw lightly. "You don't need to, Samuel." She said quietly. "I understand."

He took a shuddering breath. "Penny, if I don't...come back-"

"Please," Penny whispered, trying to keep her voice under control. "Please don't talk like that, Samuel. I can't bear to hear it. Just promise me that you'll try to stay safe? I don't think I could..." She stopped talking, leaning her head against his shoulder as a few tears ran down her cheek.

Samuel wrapped an arm around her and whispered. "I promise, Penny." He kissed her gently on the head, watching as the sun's rays had begun to dip further into the sky. He didn't know what it was, but something felt...different, like there was more besides the fear and anxiety. Something darker, a certainty one felt that made their heart sink. Shutting his eyes, he felt the necklace clink against his dog-tags.

_Please, don't take me away from her._

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_**A/N: **Well, another chapter down. Also, internet cookie to whoever can identify which movie a certain chunk of dialogue is based off of. Just post it up in the review if you think you've got it. And I promise, next chapter will be posted a LOT sooner than the last one. As in, less than a month this time. _


	17. Chapter 17 We ain't comin' back

**I TOLD YOU! **

**Yes, Doors of Fire is, in fact, back from the dead. Terribly sorry I haven't updated this one in such a long time. Unfortunately, I got hit with a massive wall of writer's block, and it had me bogged down for quite some time. There's still some lingering right now, as a matter of fact. That means I'm not terribly proud of this chapter, but it's all I can manage right now. And I apoligize in advance for my terrible songwriting. Rhyming is not something that comes easy. ahoy! **

**Anyway, enjoy this chapter. For those of you who've been waiting for the action (quite a few, from what I gather) Ye shalt not be dissapointed. **

**Redwall belongs to Brian Jacques, not my sorry self. However, Samuel, Joseph, the town of Valoar, and the stupid ideas floating around my head belong to me alone. **

**P.S: Why did I just now start to write these A/N's in bold, like everybody else? Oh well, always late to the party I suppose. **

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Samuel found himself reminded of their first night in Mossflower as he glanced around at the assembled soldiers. Many had painted their faces and blackened any bright steel with lighters. They had gathered in the Abbey lawn once more before the final send-off. Almost nobeast spoke. Except for an intermittent crackle of static from the radios or some creature clearing their throat, they were deathly quiet.

They had been waiting for at least two hours, since the sun had gone down. It wasn't long before the unease began to show in their faces. Samuel drummed his claws against the butt-stock of his weapon, trying desperately to avoid thinking of what might occur that night. But even worse than that was the nagging feeling still roiling about in the back of his head. It hadn't left him since that afternoon, always turning up like some malevolent specter whenever he had a spare moment to stop and think.

An odd sound broke his concentration. At first, he couldn't determine what it was. But as he, and almost every other beast within earshot listened, it became clear. A guitar, the dirge-like strumming drifting into the night. Almost immediately, Samuel recognized the tune, an old barracks-room lament. Without realizing it, he began to sing under his breath.

_"Some say we ain't gonna be comin' back,_

_Gonna spill our blood under the tanker's tracks._

_Get our numbers picked outta the lot,_

_Follow 'em up with a rifle shot._

_Sooner or later we'll see who's right,_

_'Cause now we jump out into the night._

_Come on all of ye, gather round,_

_It's to these chains o' iron we been bound."_

More of them began to sing, calling out the chants as they came. An eerie din began to rise above the lawn.

_"We set the sun with shinin' blood,_

_Gonna drag ourselves out through the mud._

_Meet me now, my valiant friends,_

_Before over the hills the sun descends._

_Meet me at that pearly gate._

_Tell the good Saint Peter yore ghastly fate._

_The good angel looks ye in the eye,_

_Stand up straight waitin' for his reply._

_"Ye fought hard," he says, "Ye fought on well."_

_"Enter now soldier, ye served yore time in hell."_

The final words fell away, leaving them once again in silence. Samuel found himself staring at the ground, eyes shut tightly. Before, it had just been a song to sing at the end of a hard day of training. Now, it meant far more.

Everybeast looked up as a popping sound echoed above their heads, followed shortly by the burning red embers of an illumination flare. The ghostly red light flickered over them as the assembled creatures as they made final checks of their equipment. Some knelt and prayed, Samuel being among them. After a moment he stood and followed Sagepaw's gestures to assemble. When their squad was finally assembled, the squirrel nodded and set off towards the gate, nobeast saying a word the whole time. The only sounds were that of their boots on the grass and the occasional rattle of gear.

Samuel, despite the fear creeping into his mind, couldn't help but be astonished by the numbers surrounding him. But even his wonder was dampened by the somber attitude that had settled over them like a fog. They marched out onto the path, which lead out from Redwall and into Mossflower, like pallbearers.

Soon, the trees above choked out any moonlight that might have shown them where they were going. They were all relying upon Sagepaw, who was at the head of the column with a compass and map. Somewhere, far off over the horizon, the popping and rattles of a distant firefight continued. Samuel smiled wryly as the realization hit him. Ever since they had been deployed in Mossflower, there was always a fight somewhere. Beasts were always dying, always falling to the ground as another stream of fire snuffed out their life like candlelight.

Their tension grew with each step. Every foot brought them another pace closer to Valoar, and the hundreds, if not thousands of vermin waiting there. Even vermin were smart enough to realize the importance that the town played. Samuel swallowed the lump of terror in his throat as he realized this. This wouldn't be like Redwall. The Rats knew that this was their last vestige of a defense, that if the Skyjumpers took Valoar, they would be pushed back into the north. They would fight to the death.

They stopped an hour or so into the march, taking a knee as Sagepaw addressed them in a half whisper, half shout, just loud enough for the platoon to hear. "Everybeast, listen up. We're moving into the woods. Valoar is just another two miles or so to the northeast, which means we'll be there before midnight. Remember, we've got four other platoons moving with us, so watch your fire. The edge of the town is backed right up against the tree line, so we'll have some cover when the shooting starts. Get into a house and secure it before moving on. Clear? Good, move out."

Samuel winced at the sound of almost two-dozen beasts crunching and stumbling their way through the forest. At this rate, the Rats would hear them before they could even see them. A few mortars, maybe some artillery and they could all be dead before a shot was fired.

_Shut up, shut up, shut UP! _He yelled inside his head. _Just keep moving, keep walking, keep moving..._

Gradually, Samuel found his eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness. He could move with relative ease, slipping between the tree trunks and uniform-snaring bushes. Most of the others were navigating well enough, save for a few "oofs" as somebeast fell, followed shortly by a plethora of hissed curses.

Eventually, Samuel found his rhythm, a comfortable pace at which he could move quietly and without much trouble. His father had taught him the skill when Samuel was just out of childhood, when they would wander through the forests around their crop groves.

"The most important thing," The grizzled, kind-eyed squirrel had told his son. "Is to not focus too much on your footpaws. Always keep your eyes open, watch what's ahead of you. Get into your rhythm, and keep moving."

_Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving. _He repeated the mantra over and over like a monk reciting his chant. Around him, the other Skyjumpers seemed to be making decent headway. Samuel took a shallow breath of the cool, bracing night air and continued on.

They had been moving for nearly half an hour by the time Samuel first noticed the lights of Valoar. Most appeared to be the faint glow from streetlamps and vehicle lights, but there were still a few lights on inside some of the buildings closest to the trees, some of the rooms resting above the treetops. Samuel's heart leapt into his throat. It wouldn't be much longer, now. From what pale luminescence there was, he guessed the closest structures to be no more than a hundred paces from them. His grip tightened on his rifle stock. _Not much further now..._

Evidently Sagepaw had noticed the closing distance as well. A quiet hiss broke the silence, and Samuel turned to face the sergeant. He was gesturing, using his paws to convey the message, pointing at Samuel and the rest of their seven-beast squad.

_Move forward; stack up on the first house you come to. Stay hidden and wait for the signal. _

Samuel replied in turn. _What signal?_

But Sagepaw had already turned away to address the others. Trying to ignore the triphammer beating of his heart, Samuel looked at the beasts spread out near him. Joseph shrugged, as if to say, "What else are we going to do?"

They moved together, slowly and deliberately. Every snapping twig, every dry leaf crunching underpaw was as loud as any gunshot in Samuel's ears. As they went further, he was shocked to find a nigh impenetrable wall of shrubbery blocking their path. He dashed the last few paces, leaning against a rise of dirt underneath the plants. Joseph and the others had done likewise, and were desperately looking for any way through the barrier. After some searching, the otter realized that there was a bit of space, hardly more than a paw's size in height, between the dirt rows and bushes. He gestured to it, and Samuel nodded.

Without hesitation, Joseph nearly threw himself underneath the shrubs and onto the other side. Samuel followed suit, desperately trying to stop himself from hyperventilating as he clawed his way under the vines and leaves.

As he tried to clear the soil out of his mouth, Samuel looked frantically left and right for any sign of danger. Instead, he was astonished by what he saw. Buildings, stretching for almost as far as he could see, were arrayed at the very edge of the forest. Most appeared to be apartments or multi-level housing of some sorts, with crumbling brick construction and nothing more than a thin alleyway and pine-slat fence separating each structure. Some were still lit, with the sounds of gruff laughter and conversation coming from their doors.

He nearly screamed as somebeast rolled into him, coming from the other side of the bushes. As he tried to recover his breath, Samuel followed the rest of the group as they assembled under a bottom-story windowsill. Above them, it was clear that whoever lived in this particular house was still awake. A scratchy, off-beat vinyl player was being pushed far past its recommended volume limit, and the vocal talents of whatever beast was singing along were enough to make Samuel cringe.

Joseph shifted his weight slightly and poked his eyes over the windowsill, just long enough to catch a glimpse of whatever was going on inside. He yanked his head back down as the sounds of boot steps over the wood floor reached their ears and the shadow of a fox passed in front of the window. Samuel caught a glimpse of Joseph sliding something out of his boot, but it was what happened next that made him stop, open-mouthed in shock.

"Eh, mate, where ya goin'?" The voice came from inside, clearly drunk.

The fox replied in a slurred tone. "Gots'a get shum air, youse ish a buncha filthy pigsh!"

Samuel could only stare in horror as the vermin stepped out onto the back porch, leaning heavily against the doorway. The only way he hadn't seen the beasts not five feet to his left was the shadows. But those wouldn't be enough if he turned to look down, which in fact, he was in the process of doing at that very moment. Samuel's breath caught in his throat as the fox's eyes turned onto them.

Joseph moved faster than anybeast Samuel had ever seen. In a split second, he had leapt out of the small ditch underneath the window and caught the fox a vicious blow to the throat. The vermin made a choking, sighing noise as Jonas seized him by the belt and pulled him off the small ledge, right onto his waiting bayonet.

The sound made everybeast flinch involuntarily. The fox's eyes were straining in their sockets, as if trying to scream for themselves. A short wheeze escaped his lips as the last vestige of life slipped away, and went limp in Joseph's paws.

Quickly dragging the body into the small conduit, Joseph tucked it against the building's wall. He turned back to look at the beasts behind him. Most wore an expression of grim admiration, except for Samuel. While his face was impassive as anybeast else's, his eyes told a different story. He never thought his friend would be capable of such a thing. It felt wrong, seeing the jovial otter snuff out a life with such ease.

But Samuel had little time for contemplation. The beast behind him, a mouse who hardly looked like he was out of childhood, tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. Samuel craned his neck, noticing the shadowy figures assembled behind the house next to theirs. One of them was Sagepaw, motioning with his paws. Samuel's heart fluttered as he interpreted the message.

_Count to ten, grenade. Put it through the window. Secure the house, wait for orders over radio._

Samuel gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up, to make sure the squirrel saw it, before fumbling with his grenade pouch. Joseph leaned back, concern playing in his eyes. "Wot're ye playin' at, mate?" He whispered.

"Break the window," Samuel hissed back, nodding towards the glass pane over their heads. "On the count of three."

The otter appeared concerned. "Are ye sure? We can always..."

Samuel cut him off, whispering sharply. "Joseph, we don't have time for this! On three, alright?"

Joseph finally relented, positioning himself to where he could smash the window with his weapon. Samuel held up a finger. _One._

Another. _Two._

Samuel yanked the pin from the grenade with an audible click. _Three._

Without a second for pause, Joseph stood up and smashed the pane with his weapon's stock, showering them in glass chunks. Samuel could hear the vermin's sudden shouts as he hurled the miniature bomb through the hole. The grenade landed on the wooden floor with a _thunk, thunk, thunk. _He didn't even stop to see where it landed, instead dropping back down behind the walls and covering his ears, but not soon enough to hear an astonished Rat's final, shocked words.

"Wot in 'ellgates..."

The explosion felt like somebeast kicking him in the chest, and the sensation of a hundred rifles going off next to his head in the exact same moment. A choking cloud of dust and debris spewed from the window like a volcano, covering them with pieces of wood and filth. Samuel was dumbstruck, hardly able to keep himself standing on shaking legs. But somebeast grabbed him by the lapel, pointing him towards the door where everybeast else was already moving. Samuel hardly had time to raise his weapon as they spun inside the room.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Samuel rounded the corner, rifle up to his shoulder and paws trembling. At first, he couldn't make out anything through the smoke. But slowly, his eyes began to pick out details. They were inside what had previously been a living room of some sorts, simply built and furnished. But now, nothing except the shrapnel-damaged walls remained intact. There had been a table in the center of the room, but now it was nothing more than a few shards of plywood. The only light came from a small fire beginning to smolder in the middle of the room, which cast a hellish-orange light through the haze of dust.

His rifle seemed to move on its own accord as something caught his gaze nearby. His heart felt like it would burst as the thing stood, swaying back and forth. At first, Samuel thought it was a rat. But as the adrenaline coursed through from his veins to his eyes, the figure became clearer. It was a ferret, covered in ash and bleeding from his nose and ears. He was moving like a drunkard, hardly able to stay on his feet. But then the vermin's eyes opened and locked onto the seven figures standing on the opposite side of the room. His paw fumbled for the pistol on his belt, desperately trying to open the flap.

The room was bathed in bursts of light as everybeast opened fire, save for the doomed ferret. He was hardly visible through the dust and soot kicked up from the gunfire, until he landed on the floor in a crumpled heap. The salvo had only served to further Samuel's deafness. But that was hardly of any concern to him. Despite the sickening feeling rising up in his gut, he followed everybeast else as they secured the house. He stayed downstairs with Joseph and another beast while the remaining four went upstairs.

As his ears began to adjust, the distinct popping of rifles and blatting machine guns began to edge into his consciousness. As he took a tentative look out one of the windows, it was obvious that the vermin had begun to realize what was going on. The street outside seemed to be on fire, flickering with dozens of muzzle flashes coming from the windows and alleyways around them. The house Samuel was in was situated at the stop of a dead-end road, with an intersection breaking off from the path a hundred or so yards down the right.

He ducked as a grenade detonated in the house directly across from theirs, followed by a shrill scream and three gunshots. Already, there were bodies littered on the street. Mostly vermin, who seemed to have tried to run after the first explosions. Samuel had to swallow the bile starting to rise in his throat, turning back to the sound of pawsteps on the stairs.

One of them, a grime-covered mouse, shouted over the cacophony outside. "Upstairs is clear! Here," He said, handing Samuel the handset for the mouse's radio. "Sagepaw wants to talk!"

Samuel held the phone to one ear and plugged the other. "Sergeant, we've cleared the house! What's next?"

He had to strain his ears to hear over the gunfire coming from Sagepaw's end of the conversation. "We're all spread out along these houses! We need to link up and-Rory, get some fire on that upstairs window! Right there, that one! – And regroup, we're not doing any good like this! Assemble at the intersection just down the road, do you see it?"

Samuel took one last look out the window, flinching as a few shots skipped off the street outside. "Roger that, I've got it!"

"Alright, head out as soon as possible, we're on the way! We haven't gotten much incoming from down that end of the street, mostly just from across the road and in the houses, so you should be alright! Take down the corner house and hold tight.'

Another explosion rocked the house, and Samuel kept his head down as debris fell down onto his helmet. Sagepaw evidently didn't enjoy the break in conversation. "Corporal, do you read?"

"Affirmative, Sergeant! We're moving out!"

Samuel turned to the others, who were arrayed near the windows to scan for muzzle flashes. "Listen up! We need to move down the road and secure the house on the corner of the intersection, everybeast's rallying there! I want four beasts to stay here and cover us until we get there. When we've set up, the rest can move up. Everybeast understand?"

He was met with a series of nods, some more assured than others. Taking a breath to ready himself, Samuel waved a paw. "Alright, two beasts with me! The rest of you, cover on three! One, two...three!"

The street was almost glowing with the amount of gunfire raging around them. Tracers zipped overhead like angry fireflies and the pavement was a writhing mass of dust as the rounds impacted. Samuel's lungs felt like they were on fire as he sprinted across the empty space, nearly tripping over himself in the rush. The moment him and the two other beasts had reached the opposite side of the road and taken cover along the sides of the building, he waved a paw to those still inside the house. A moment later, the remaining four sprinted out onto the street.

A flurry of dust and sparks flew up as enemy gunfire rained down about them. Samuel could only gape as two beasts went down, hard. One fell without a sound, not even putting out his paws to stop his fall onto the pavement. The other yelped and took two fumbling steps before dropping to the pavement, shrieking.

Samuel watched, dumbstruck, as Joseph stopped in the middle of the street to look back at the fallen mouse. Without hesitation, he ran pell-mell to reach the casualty as more and more gunfire began to rattle around them. The otter seemed oblivious to the cone of death starting to close around him, grabbing the mouse's collar and half-pushing, half-dragging him along.

They only narrowly managed to avoid the explosion that followed in their wake half a second after, which would have without a doubt killed them both. Samuel reached out and pulled his friend in the last few feet, shouting to be heard over the noise. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, kneeling next to the casualty. "Yeah, but he ain't! We gotta get the medic!"

Samuel stopped him. "Not here! We need to get into that house; we're sitting ducks out on this street! Come on, let's move!"

The wounded mouse shouted in pain as Joseph picked him up, throwing him over one shoulder. Trying to stop the shaking in his paws, Samuel motioned forward. "Get to the house, move!"

As they ran as fast as their legs could carry them, it was clear to Samuel that the battle was growing. Massive detonations rocked the earth underneath their paws, and the blatting of machine gun fire drowned out everything else except the high-pitched ringing in his ears.

They reached the dwelling just as a mortar shell burst across the street, just outside another building. An entire wall collapsed, sending the building with it not long after. Samuel swallowed the growing lump of terror in his throat and, without stopping to think, stepped up to the door and put three well-aimed shots into the lock before kicking it open.

Astonishingly, the lights were still on. Samuel swung his rifle left and right, searching the tiny, bare room for any signs of life. Nothing moved. Even the furniture seemed to be in order. Except for a few broken windows, everything was intact. Besides a single table, a few chairs, and the fireplace, the room was empty. But something did attract his attention: The steps leading up to a second story on the left side of the space, along with a small door along the side of the staircase. Samuel motioned to three of his squad mates. "Clear the upstairs and radio Sagepaw, tell him the structure is secure and to move as soon as he can!"

They took off, too shell-shocked and tense to do anything except follow orders. As their medic began to attend to the wounded mouse, Samuel approached the small wooden door alongside the staircase. Grasping the knob with a sweating paw, he yanked it open and allowed what meager light there was to flood into the dank space.

He nearly pulled the trigger as something moved at the bottom what appeared to be a cellar. But his finger slackened as a figure approached, paws raised above its head.

"Don't shoot!" It yelled, trying to be heard over the deafening noise. Samuel tried to speak past the sandpaper feeling in his throat. "Come out, slowly!"

It was a rabbit, normally white-hued fur coated in a layer of gray dust. He was obviously an elderly creature, judging by the frail, shaking limbs and cane in one paw. The dirty, weathered jacket used to be a blue-like color, but as with his fur, was covered in debris. "Please, don't shoot! I'm just a worker, I live here with my wife and grandchildren. What's going on, is the battle over? We heard..."

Samuel held out one paw, flinching as something exploded outside. "No, stay there! We need to secure the house; our reinforcements will be here soon. Just stay where you are!"

The rabbit tried to protest, but Samuel stepped back and shut the door, barring it with a chair. He turned around to see the three beasts he had sent upstairs. "The second story is clear," Another squirrel told him. "And Sagepaw is on his way!"

Samuel nodded, ducking as a flurry of gunfire raked the street outside. "Good, I want two of you upstairs to keep overwatch. Anything moves outside that doesn't look like of ours, shoot it. Keep Sagepaw updated."

As the squirrel and the other took off, Samuel noticed the third beast, a mouse, staring at the wounded Sky-jumper lying on the table and the medic, working frantically. Samuel approached him and looked at the wounded mouse's pale, unmoving face. His eyes drifted up to the medic. The vole simply shook his head, stepping back from the table slowly.

Samuel wrapped an arm around the other mouse, who was staring blankly at the lifeless body and leading him away. "Did you know him?"

All he got was a shallow nod and choked cry. Samuel looked at his lapel to find the name stenciled into it. _Rollins. _

"Hey, Rollins," He said, just loud enough to be heard over the clamor. "I need you to help me, alright? I need you to watch that front door, and don't move a muscle. Sagepaw is coming in soon, and you need to make sure he gets in safe. If anything tries to come through there that isn't in our uniform, pop 'em. Can you do it?"

The mouse swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah, I...I can do it."

Samuel clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright, then. We're all counting on you, Rollins."

As he moved to cover the front door, Samuel moved to kneel next to Joseph at one of the street-facing windows. The otter had his gaze fixed down his weapon's sights, scanning the road carefully. "You good?" Samuel shouted.

Joseph gave him a thumbs-up. "Right as rain, Sammy. The good ol' Sarge on his way?"

"Roger that, should be here momentarily."

"Friendlies, friendlies coming in! Clear a path, move it! We've got wounded!"

Samuel spun around to see a crowd of beasts pouring into the building, some limping or being carried by others. Sagepaw himself had a large bandage, splattered with red, hanging from one arm. He saluted Samuel as they came face-to-face. "Good job, Sammy, excellent work. Any wounded?"

Samuel could only point to the casualty lying on the table. Sagepaw grimaced. "Oh, hell. Did you..."

A shake of the head. "No, I didn't. What's the situation with Rockeye's armor?"

He sighed. "Nothing. We haven't gotten a peep from him the whole time. Orders still stand; keep moving to the river and take the bridges."

Samuel tried his best to conceal the frustration on his face. "Alright, whatever. Do we have..."

They all dove to the ground as a hail of gunfire turned the windows into miniscule chunks of glass and slammed into the walls behind them with a flurry of dust. A shrew, who hadn't seen the incoming until it was too late, jerked spasmodically and fell without a sound.

"Hellgates!" Sagepaw shouted, clutching his helmet with one paw while waving hurriedly with the other. "Machine gun team up! Put some fire onto those scum!"

A trio of soldiers rushed upstairs, lugging the heavy machine gun with them. Sagepaw leaned close to shout over the noise as they began to duel with whatever was out there. "Here's the plan! You're going to take your squad and follow me; we're going to clear each house along this road until we reach the river! When we get there, I need you to call in the naval guns, pound the opposite bank for as long as possible, keep their heads down. I'll radio Rockeye and get him to move up with the tanks. Got it?"

Samuel tried not to scream as an explosion shook the house. "Got it!"

His friend nodded. "Right, we need to move. Make sure everybeast is ready to leave in two minutes. Consolidate what's needed; leave just a few beasts behind to take care of the wounded."

They scrambled to get everything organized as the city outside raged. There was no respite from the constant, nerve-fraying gunfire. Samuel crawled on all fours over to the window where Joseph was kneeling, letting off a burst from his weapon before dropping back down.

"What's the word, Sammy?" He shouted, dropping the empty magazine and slamming a new one home.

"We're getting out of here, heading towards the bridges." Samuel shouted as he loosed a few shots out of the window, not really sure where the bullets were going. "Rockeye's tanks are right behind us."

Joseph gave him a look, to which Samuel replied with a shrug. "At least that's what we heard. No promises."

The otter grimaced, trying hard not to unleash a torrent of profanity. "If those tanks don't show up soon..."

Samuel nodded as he took a drink from his canteen. This turned out to be harder than he thought, as his paws were shaking, almost violently. It was the first time in what felt like ages that he had been able to settle down, at least somewhat. Now, as the adrenaline began to ebb, he began to notice the acrid scent of burnt gunpowder and cordite. Smoke drifted through the broken windows like a thousand phantoms. Most of the walls were dotted with countless bullet holes and shrapnel marks. Samuel tried not to shudder as he noticed the spray of blood where the shrew had been cut down.

He jumped slightly as Sagepaw yelled. "Everybeast, listen up! We're heading out; it's time to seize those bridges. I want three guys to stay back and help with the wounded, since we can't afford to carry them. The rest of you, this is the plan: Move down this street, go house to house. We won't last a second if we stay on the road. Understand?"

Everybeast gave him something to the affirmative, so he nodded and waved a paw. "Alright, let's move! Spread out, keep moving, and watch your back. Good luck!"


	18. Chapter 18 The River

**Good Lord, I'm a terrible FF updater. Really, guys, I'm sorry. Summer's coming to an end here, and preparing for senior year has me in a fluster. Which is probably why I'm not terribly proud of this chapter. It seemed like every time I tried to get the momentum going for this part things just kind of went "blah". Oh well, maybe this will get me up and moving again.**

**Anyway, standard disclaimer stuff applies. Redwall, Mossflower, etc. belong to Brian Jacques, but Samuel, Joseph, the town of Valoar, and that stuff belongs to me. **

**Enjoy, and R&R!**

* * *

It was the same thing, over and over again. Sprinting down the rubble and body-littered roads, kicking in door after door. Most of the buildings, riddled with shrapnel and the signature dust-ringed bullet holes in their brick and stone walls, were thankfully abandoned. But they would still have to duck and latch onto whatever cover was available as more fire continued to slam in around their positions. More than once Samuel felt his stomach lurch as something exploded nearby, feeling like somebeast had just punched him in the gut.

He had lost count of how many houses they had secured. It all seemed to swirl into one continuous rhythm. A grenade through one of the missing windowpanes, a muffled _thump, _and somebeast sending their boot into the doorframe. Dust and ash, swirling in the hot, choking air. Samuel tried to ignore the burning in his lungs and watering eyes as they sprinted up another set of stairs. As he looked out one of the shattered windows, two thoughts hit him simultaneously.

Firstly, it was almost dawn. Morning sunlight was already beginning to cut through the heavy smoke and fog, sending ruddy beams of light cutting through the haze. They had been fighting all night, house after house.

Secondly, and most important, he could see the river. The normally clear and tranquil waters were coated with a slew of dust, burning debris, and the occasional splash from a mis-fired mortar. And not far off...

"Sagepaw!" He yelled, despite the irritation in his throat. "I can see the bridges, they're just a block ahead!"

The squirrel gave him a thumbs-up before gesturing to the mouse carrying a radio and taking the device, using the pre-assigned callsigns Rockeye had insisted upon to communicate on the off-chance that their radio security was compromised. "Goliath two-one, this is Sierra two-two. Come in, over."

A voice crackled in over the set. "Sierra two-two, this is Goliath two-one. Send traffic, over."

"Bridgeheads are in sight and the city is clear enough for the tanks. Advise sending armor support now, over."

"Sierra two-two, we need those bridges completely secured before we can send the armor. We have to hit them hard, and we can't do that without those bridges in our paws, over."

Sagepaw balled his paw into a fist, trying to control the anger rising in his voice. "Goliath two-one, be advised that without armor support, we may be rendered combat ineffective on the bridge assault. We _need_ those guns, over."

Rockeye's voice came back on a moment later, still unusually calm. "Sierra two-two, those bridges have to be secured first. Use the navy if you have to. Get it done, over."

"Goliath two-two, you don't understand! We'll get slaughtered without-"

"Sergeant, I have full confidence in your abilities. Now secure the objective, son. Goliath two-one over and out."

Sagepaw stared at the radio in his paw in silence for a moment before throwing the telephone-like set across the room in anger. "Damnit, what is he thinking? We won't last two seconds out there without tanks!"

Everybeast stared in shocked silence as Sagepaw paced back and forth, trying to get his raging temper under control. Finally, he slammed the helmet back on his head and turned around. "Whoever's working the radio, get the naval guns on-station. I want them to pound the hellgates out of that opposite bank. Don't give that scum an inch to raise their heads. The rest of you, here's how we're going to do this. I want at least three platoons providing a base of support on one side of the bridges. Take whatever cover you can and keep up the fire. Two platoons will split off and take one bridge apiece. If one looks like a lost cause, I want you to fall back and head to the other. I don't give a rat's tail if we only secure one bridge. As long as we can get that armor, nothing else matters. Got it?"

Everybeast seemed to be in agreement, so Sagepaw grabbed the radio one last time and spat into the receiver. "Sierra two-two moving out, over."

Samuel managed to find Joseph in the crowd of beasts preparing to move out. The otter had an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips as he began to reload his weapon. "Some plan, eh?" He said absentmindedly as Samuel procured what little ammunition was to be had out of a small bin.

"I don't know what he's thinking," Samuel said, just loud enough for his friend to catch it.

"Who, Sagepaw?"

"No, Rockeye. It's like...it's like he's using us as cannon fodder."

Joseph shrugged and loaded a magazine, slamming the bolt home. "He's in command fer a reason, I s'pose. Not our job to question."

Samuel just nodded, staying quiet for a while until speaking again. "I wonder what happened to Tommy."

"What, ye didn't 'ear? He's in charge of a platoon, now. Probably somewhere nearby, be my guess. 'ope he comes out alright."

Before Samuel could reply, Sagepaw yelled above the noise. "Everybeast, get ready to move. Stick to the plan, and keep your heads down. Move out!"

There was a clamor of shouting and thudding boots against the wooden floors as they flooded out of the house, firing as they went. Samuel rushed outside along with them, almost hyperventilating from the terror starting to build up inside his chest. Forcing himself to take a breath of the sharp, acrid air, he focused on putting on footpaw in front of the other and keeping his head down.

The rays of early morning sunlight turned ruddy through the clouds of black smoke rising above Valoar. Somewhere, a fire had begun to devour part of the city. Now, as Samuel gasped for air, the ash and smoke began to feel like sandpaper on the inside of his lungs. Everything was nothing but a continuous blur as his eyes began to tear up; from the thick haze or from absolute fear he wasn't sure. But as he lifted his gaze up from the ruined streets, the sight ahead caught the breath in his throat.

On the opposite river bank, the entire city was obscured in what seemed to be a constant haze of muzzle flash and gun smoke. The river itself was roiling as hundreds, if not thousands of bullets tore at its surface. Even through the persistent ringing in his ears, Samuel could make out the distant rattle of machine guns and signature _pop _of mortars. By the time they had sprinted the last dozen or so yards to collapse behind a shoulder-high wall bordering the riverbank, the ordinance had already begun to impact near their positions, spraying them with dust and chunks of stone.

Sagepaw was quick to get everybeast moving. "First and second platoons, move out! Seize those bridges and push forward. Everybeast else, covering fire!"

Samuel felt a combined pang of relief and guilt, watching as two scores of sky-jumpers leapt up from the relative safety of the wall and went their separate ways, about twenty to each bridge. Relieved he wasn't part of those going, and ashamed to realize he had thought of such a thing.

He flinched as everybeast opened fire on the opposite bank. Not realizing how much his paws were shaking, Samuel did as well. By now, his shoulder was so bruised and sore from the continuous recoil it was taking that every shot made him wince and grimace. Trying to ignore the pain and the ringing in his ears, he pulled the trigger again and again.

As he stopped to reload, Samuel's near-deafened ears managed to catch a distant sound, one that turned his gut into a ball of ice and his legs into bricks. Nobeast took notice until a huge cloud of dirt, stone, and debris erupted from the ground with a violent bang.

Everybeast scrambled for cover as more artillery began to fall around them, sending up geysers of flame and dust. Samuel found himself flat on his stomach, struggling for breath as the world around him began to disintegrate. He hardly even noticed when Sagepaw gripped him by the collar, dragging Samuel almost a dozen yards into the nearest bit of solid cover: A half-collapsed storefront already crowded with others.

He collapsed against a wall, heaving in breath after searing breath. He fumbled for his canteen, finally opening the lid and chugging the remaining water in a matter of seconds. Eventually, his head began to clear. Almost immediately, he wished it hadn't.

Everything was in chaos. Wounded and dying beasts were splayed about the room like ragdolls, screaming and wailing. Even the gunfire couldn't silence their cries. Smoke and dust filled the room, stinging Samuel's eyes and throat. He struggled to his feet, the rifle in his paws feeling like a hundred-pound weight.

Joseph ducked underneath the cover of a windowsill as he began to reload, grabbing for one of his few remaining magazines. He flinched as Samuel collapsed next to him, trying to avoid the maelstrom of bullets overhead. The squirrel shouted over the noise. "How much ammo do you have?"

His friend stood up for the briefest of seconds to fire off a burst before dropping again. "Not much, mate. You?"

"Four clips left, two grenades. We better take those bridges quick or this is going to get bad."

Joseph poked his head above the sill for just a moment and winced. "Then ye may not wanna look up."

Samuel felt his heart skip a beat. "Why?"

The otter simply shook his head. "Nobeast's on the bridges, they're gone."

Before Samuel could say a word, Sagepaw was next to them both, looking for himself. He swore loudly as his eyes took in the scene in front of them. After a moment, he shook his head and gestured to the radio operator. He took the set in paw and shouted into the receiver in order to be heard over the roar. "Goliath two-one, this is Sierra two-two, come in, over!"

Another voice crackled in over the set. "Sierra two-two, Goliath two-one. Send traffic, over."

"Goliath two-one, be advised that the bridges _cannot _be secured without armor support! We are pinned down near the river and are combat ineffective. Repeat, we are combat ineffective. We need those tanks, over!"

Whoever was speaking on the other end sounded uncaring, almost indifferent. "Sierra two-two, those bridges have to be taken before any armor can be sent. Take the objective and hold for further instructions. Any other requests may be..."

The voice halted mid-sentence as two pistol rounds shredded the receiver. Sagepaw stood over the set, smoking weapon still in paw. He lowered the pistol and looked around at the shocked expressions around him. "We're getting out of here, Sky-jumpers. Gather the wounded and prepare to move."

Samuel had already began low-crawling towards one of the litters when a figure burst through the door, shouting in a strained voice. "Friendly, friendly! Don't shoot!"

Half a dozen rifle barrels dropped as the mouse tried to regain his breath. Immediately, Samuel knew something was wrong. His fur was streaked with burns and numerous cuts, and his uniform was disheveled beyond repair. But what struck him were the beast's eyes. They were more than just panicked. They were terrified, utterly petrified at whatever they had seen.

Sagepaw took the initiative. "Soldier, what are you doing? Why aren't you with your platoon?"

The mouse could hardly stop shaking as he babbled out a response. "Vermin...crossed the river...they're-we...everyone's gone! They killed them!"

The squirrel shouted to cut through his confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Suddenly, the messenger went stiff. "They've flanked us on either side of the town, sir! The vermin are cutting around the city and closing behind us. We're trapped!"

Everybeast halted whatever it was they had been doing and looked up at the horrified mouse. Even then, they could hear the distant sound of gunfire coming from the west and east, far from where they had been previously engaged. It was true; the vermin were preparing to cut them off completely and slaughter each one, down to the beast.

An eerie silence fell over the group, save for the barrage outside. Sagepaw turned away, taking the helmet off his head with a shaking paw. He was quiet for a short while, pacing back and forth slowly. Finally, in a voice just loud enough to be heard by everybeast, he spoke to them all. "Abandon this position and retreat back to the abbey. If we move quickly enough we...we might be able to..."

He stopped talking, realizing what was happening. And so did everybeast else. Most were quiet, gazing down at the floor or out into space. Some started praying or muttering to themselves. But there was no to escape what they were facing.

"We can hold, for as long as possible."

Joseph gazed at Samuel with a stunned expression on his face. His friend was leaning against the wall, using his rifle as support. He spoke again, louder this time. "We can hold, at least for a little while. At least then we won't...you know, go down without a fight."

Nobeast said a word. Sagepaw looked at him quizzically for a moment before taking a breath and donning his helmet. "I'm staying. Anybeast who wants to try and get away, I won't hold it against you. After all, someone has to get the word back to Rockeye." He almost spat the name.

Joseph got up. "I ain't leavin'. No use, the way I see it."

To Samuel's astonishment, one after another every one of them stood. Almost thirty souls, all told. Sagepaw murmured out loud. "Not much ammo left. Make every shot count. Hooah?"

There was a quiet affirmation from all of them. Sagepaw nodded and took a breath. "Everybeast, prepare to defend yourselves!"


	19. Chapter 19 Too Pretty to Die

Yay new chapter! Sorry it took so long, and sorry this intro is short. I'm in a rush.

Also, ten internet points to whoever can identify the firefly reference.

R&R

* * *

"_Squad four, you need to move to the north end of the street. Right there, right there, over!"_

_"We just took another mortar; this building isn't going to hold up for much longer!"_

_"Somebeast put fire on that building at the corner! They've got at least a dozen up there with rifles; we gotta get 'em before..."_

The radio traffic drowned out as Samuel fired over the windowsill, hardly even aiming at the silhouetted figures out in the street. Outside, away from the dust-choked confines of their standoff point, the roads and alleys were bathed in a hellish orange light. The sun had come up almost two hours before, but with the pervasive, oily smoke it might as well have been midnight. What little light remained came from the fires of smoldering buildings and bomb craters.

Samuel dropped to his face as another chunk of the brick wall disappeared next to his head, spraying him with chunks of stone. He hardly even noticed by now. His whole body was covered in the pale gray dust, where it wasn't oozing blood. Already he had sustained two pieces of shrapnel to the face, one on the chin and another in his forehead, and both bled like a stuck pig. He had considered asking for help until he realized that not only had their first aid supplies been exhausted hours ago, but the medic had been killed trying to retrieve somebeast outside.

By now their numbers had dwindled down to only a dozen or so somewhat able-bodied creatures. The rest were either dead or wounded beyond point of help. Samuel's ears rang with both the unrelenting gunfire and explosions, and the screams and shrieks of their wounded.

Samuel heaved in another difficult breath, feeling the powder and smoke sear his lungs. Suddenly, he realized that there was a small hole blown through the wall, just a few inches off the ground. He looked through the gap, feeling his heart sink at what he saw.

It seemed as if hundreds of vermin were converging on them, pouring over the rubble like ants. They were shouting, firing their weapons at their prey trapped in the building. He could almost see the murderous glint in their eyes, the bloodlust etched across their faces.

Without warning, one of the figures jerked to one side, like he had been punched. He fell, and didn't get back up. Samuel watched, transfixed, as two more fell in rapid succession. Even the seemingly never-ending ranks of vermin seemed to take notice. Some of them ducked behind cover, while others desperately searched for whatever was beginning to pick off their ranks.

Something in Samuel's head clicked. He turned towards the radio; a smaller, more portable set somebeast had been carrying. The brick-sized handset was crackling with static and frenzied calls for help as Samuel twisted the dial, his shaking paws making it difficult to find the right channel.

"Enfield one, Enfield one, come in!" He shouted, trying to make himself heard over the din.

A crackling voice came back over the speaker. "This is Enfield one, who in the bloody hellgates is this, over? We're in a bit of a pickle here, dont'cha know!"

Samuel breathed a short sigh of relief. "Pangil, this is Sagepaw's platoon. It's Samuel! Is that you hitting the plaza in front of us?"

The hare's voice was almost giddy as he replied. "Sammy! By Jove, I knew those blighters wouldn't getchya! That's affirmative; we're in the building just across from you. Thought we'd give 'em the old blood an' vinegar, wot wot?"

He laughed drily; it came out more as a choked rasp. "Nice to know we aren't going to die alone, at least."

"Die? Who said anythin' about kickin' the bucket? We ain't goin' nowhere, laddo."

Samuel couldn't resist taking the hare's bait. "And why's that, flop-ears?"

"Because we are oh so pretty, dontcha know."

Both their laughter was drowned out by the thunderous roar of another mortar detonation nearby. As more debris began to fall, Samuel keyed the 'talk' button again. "Just keep up that fire, Pangil. Maybe we'll hold 'em off for a little while."

"Got ya covered, laddie."

He discarded the radio as Joseph landed next to him, panting heavily. There was a quickly-reddening bandage on one of his arms, and a patch of gauze on his neck where a piece of stone had cut him fairly deeply. The otter sat against the wall with his friend, the weapon in his arms sagging. "Still comin'?" He asked bleakly.

Samuel didn't even bother to look. "Yeah, still coming."

Joseph sighed and took his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor. There weren't any need for words. Samuel absentmindedly patted the pouches affixed to his belt, searching for ammunition, but to no avail. Suddenly, Joseph's paw appeared in front of his face with a single cartridge. "Make it count," was all he said.

His trembling paws made it nearly impossible to load the weapon. As he finally let the bolt go, another explosion rocked the world around them. He ducked reflexively, even as a strange thought entered his head. _Why did that sound different than the others?_

He was ready to chalk it up to his ringing ears until another detonation, exactly like the previous, went off. It was as if the bombs weren't being directed at them, instead coming from down the street. And then another, more startling revelation appeared. _The vermin aren't firing as quickly. What in hellgates..._

A distinctly mechanical rumbling snapped him out of the stupor like a slap in the face. He leapt up from behind the meager protection the wall offered, mouth agape at what lay in front of him.

The vermin's ranks were collapsing as no less than six shells burst around them, filling the air with smoke and flying steel. Most ran, while others tried in desperate futility to hide. They were all trying to get away from the same threat, though: Tanks.

A full squad of the armored behemoths came rolling out of the haze like monsters from an ancient time. They seemed to appear out of nowhere from the left side of the square, quickly turning and penning the enemy in on all sides. The thunder of their cannons drowned out even the waning artillery fire from across the bank, where even more tank shells were shredding the defenders. Far down the road running parallel to the river, even more vehicles began to fire as they rumbled out of the haze.

Samuel could only watch as the vermin were decimated. Some managed to escape into the alleyways, but most were cut down where the stood. And as the last of them fled or died, the guns fell silent.

An eerie quiet settled over the plaza. Except for the distant chatter of machine guns, the air had gone still. The iron beasts sat idly, their engines growling. Suddenly, one of the hatches opened up and a large silhouette appeared. Standing on the cupola of his vehicle looking every bit the conquering soldier, was Rockeye. He raised a massive paw, shouting to be heard. "The cavalry has arrived!"

Samuel could feel the disgust beginning to rise up in his gut as a hearty cheer went up, from both tank operators and sky-jumpers alike. Many were abandoning their cover to assemble around the tanks, shouting joyously.

Joseph spat on the floor and managed to stand up, helping Samuel by looping an arm over his shoulders. The squirrel's face was almost unreadable behind the mask of dust, blood, and shock, but in his eyes there was a burning revulsion. His friend tried to console him as best possible. "Come on, mate," he said quietly, guiding Samuel outside to lean against a semi-intact car. "Just rest 'ere until I can find ye some water and a medic."

He didn't say anything as Joseph walked away, choosing instead to stare at the burning city across the riverbank. The flames had already consumed most of the smaller buildings, most likely more than six city blocks turned to ash. Smoke was rising into the late afternoon sky, turning the horizon into a bleak, reddish-hued blanket. There were still small firefights raging elsewhere, and the distant crack of gunshots was unmistakable.

His eyes gradually drifted back to the tanks and the crowds gathered around them.

_Bastard, _he fumed inside his head. _He could have deployed any time he wanted to. We were just the poor, defenseless colonists, waiting for the sheriffs to ride into town and save us... _

The noise from the relieved sky-jumpers was so loud nobeast heard the distant concussion. None of them heard the sharp whistle, but all of them heard the earth-shattering explosion.

A fountain of dirt and stone erupted from the center of the square, killing half a dozen outright. The concussion was enough to send everybeast tumbling off their feet, most of them dazed to the point of near unconsciousness. Samuel was one of the few who managed to stay on their paws, getting blown back into the vehicle's frame. He felt the wind driven from his lungs in a powerful _whump! _

He sucked in a breath, trying to stand as the ground and sky spun around him. Another round exploded, further away, the shrapnel sparking against the tank's armored sides. Samuel began to lurch towards another building close by, for no other reason than that it might stop something other than a direct hit.

He never heard the third shell hit. The only warning was the feeling of his feet being knocked out from under him, and what felt like a baseball connecting with the bottom of his throat, just above the collar of his tattered shirt.

The next thing Samuel knew, he was lying on the scorched ground with a stinging sensation in his neck. His vision was fuzzy, like he was looking at everything through the bottom of a soda bottle. Trying to move his legs, he seemed to get no response. At least, he didn't think so. Nothing seemed to make sense.

His paw trailed up to one side of his neck, where it came away wet and sticky with blood. Even as he coughed, the action feeling like it would tear him in half, Samuel could taste blood in his mouth.

Breathing was becoming difficult, and he could feel a strange coldness beginning to creep into his limbs. Samuel started to panic, clutching his neck as the terror set in. His boots scrabbled against the pavement, and his eyes shot back and forth like bugs in a jar desperate for escape.

Somebeast appeared in his gaze, moving like a specter, slow and lethargic. At least it seemed that way to Samuel. It spoke with a distorted voice, distant and hard to understand. He could just barely hear it, like it was shouting down a long hallway at him.

"Sammy! Sammy! C'mon, mate, don't do this! Come on! Medic, medic! Hurry, move yoreself! We need some help over here!"

The words began to fade along with his vision. As Samuel's movements began to slow, he listened to the beast's final words.

"Come on, Samuel! Stay wit' me, mate! Just hold on! Hold..."


	20. Chapter 20 Out of Darkness

Consciousness swam back into reality like something breaking the surface of a muddy, sludge-infested lake. The world around him was dark, but there were sounds; sounds of talking, of clattering equipment and the soft rustle of bedsheets against each other, swirling together into one peaceful murmur. Smells of subdued lilac and cleaner hung lightly in the air, along with the gentle scent of a fresh spring day wafting through the room.

Slowly, the sounds began to clear. He could hear somebeast talking nearby, a hushed, but kind voice, along with many others.

"Could you bring me another warm towel, sister?"

"There, now, those new pillows should do you a powerful good."

"Here you go, Sergeant. The cooks did a wonderful job with the nutbread today."

"Ah, hello there Corporal Melton. Glad to see you awake."

Samuel tried to open his eyes, but everything was still black. Speaking was impossible as well, though he had no idea why. He felt a comforting paw grasp his own. "Just relax, son. You'll be alright. You caught a few pieces of shrapnel, and we needed to bandage them."

The squirrel managed to gesture towards his throat with a feeble paw. The male voice turned somber. "Yes, you were wounded. Quite severely, I'm afraid to say. We had to use a tube in order to keep you breathing. But I can take those bandages off your head, if you'd like."

Samuel squeezed the paw once, trying to communicate his meaning. _Yes._

"Alright then, just give me a moment. Could I ask you to close your eyes? The light can be a little much after seeing nothing but darkness for so long."

He squeezed his eyes shut, listening as the bandages were snipped away and then carefully removed. "Okay, you can open them. Just be careful."

Easing his eyelids open, Samuel allowed them to adjust to the soft light as slowly as possible. Eventually he was able to blink away the spots in his vision and look around.

He was in Redwall's infirmary. The familiar red sandstone walls gleamed slightly in the combination of afternoon sunlight and overhanging bulbs. Rows upon rows of beds were arrayed down each side of the room, with countless attendants bustling to and fro, each wrapped up in their own affairs. Samuel couldn't see much else, as he was lying flat on his back. But tilting his head slightly, he could make out some of the other patients. The majority were sitting up, chatting or eating lunch. A few, such as him, however, lay eerily still. Most of their eyes were closed, and they were attached to a myriad of machines.

His gaze shifted to the creature who had spoke to him before. It was a mouse, obviously of the Redwall order by his habit and friendly gaze. He sat down next to Samuel on the bed. "My name is Brother Alfred; I'm an assistant here in the infirmary. We have a doctor as well, but she went down to the cellars to retrieve some medication. She'll be back in a little while to see how you're doing. But for now you can just rest." He stood up, casting one last glance at the injured soldier. "It's good to see you awake, Samuel. Really, it is. We weren't sure for a while if..." His smile fell. "Well, it doesn't matter now. Just get some sleep, and I'll have Sister Aramus come up and see you soon."

Samuel let himself drift off as Alfred walked away. His mind was still fuzzy; whether it was a product of the trauma or drugs he wasn't sure. All he could remember was a series of ear-shattering explosions and somebeast calling his name, crying and begging for him to stay alive, to stay with him, and then...

He jerked awake, sweat pouring down his brow. Even as he forced the thoughts from his head, it was almost impossible to rid himself of the screams and shrieks that had pierced the air that day. It was almost as if he could hear them as Sister Aramus appeared at his bedside.

The soft, kind-eyed vole doctor explained what had happened to Samuel, why he was there, what they had done to treat him...all of it was a blur to him. But even though he found it hard to focus on her words for very long, the gentle voice and comforting paw holding onto his own was peace enough.

After a while of talking, Sister Aramus removed the tube pumping air into Samuel's lungs. After a short fit of coughing and some water, he managed to croak out a few words. "How many...did we lose?"

Her calm smile fell sharply, and the tremble in her voice was evident as she spoke. "We don't know for sure, though...I'm not sure we'll ever know for certain how many beasts fell that day. But as of today, the number stands at three hundred dead, at least twice as many wounded. By the seasons, I couldn't believe my eyes! The infirmary was open for three solid days, trying our best to save who we could and...And comfort those beyond help." Sister Aramus fell silent, packing up her things quickly and shuffling out of the room, trying to hide the tears streaming down her face.

The mouse Alfred sat down on a chair next to his bed, running a paw over his suddenly tired face. "She's telling the truth. We were working day and night treating casualties, helping as much as we could. I never thought I'd see something as horrible as I did that night in my entire life."

Samuel was simply too weary for any tears. He was sad, of course; a deep burning anguish that had been roiling inside him ever since everything began. But now it felt different. The heartbreak was still there, but slowly and surely, like a callus forming over raw skin, the idea of vengeance was beginning to stem the sorrow. He wanted to make the Rats pay for what they had done to him and his friends, for what they had made them all suffer through. He wanted to kill them all, down to a single beast.

Alfred looked up, noticing the strange look in his patient's eyes. "Samuel?" He asked quietly. "Are you alright?"

The squirrel blinked a few times, his form sagging back into the sheets. "What? Oh, sorry. Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired."

Smiling understandingly, Alfred got up and patted Samuel's shoulder. "Get some rest; I'll bring you up something to eat in a few hours if you feel up to it. Sound alright?" But his words fell on deaf ears: Samuel had fallen asleep before the mouse had even finished talking.

It had been two days since Samuel's awakening. The medics believed he was well enough to eat solid foods and allow visitors by his bedside. Obviously, the first creature to grab his friend in a tight embrace was none other than Joseph.

"I thought I'd lost ya, mate," He said, not even trying to hide the tears of relief in his eyes. "You slipped away and stopped breathin', just like that. The docs said ye wouldn't pull through, the wound was too bad. But you showed 'em, damn right ye did!"

Samuel was no less excited to be with his friend. "They probably would've been proven right, if it wasn't for you. I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you did, Joseph."

The otter waved a paw. "You'd do the same fer me, mate. Everybeast here would. Speakin' of everybeast, Pangil's gonna want t' see yer sorry hide sometime soon. That hare's practically been jumpin' outta his fur wanting to make sure yer okay."

Samuel grinned. "I can imagine. He's the one who saved our skin out there on the plaza, after all. Tommy and him didn't get hit at all, did they?"

Joseph shook his head. "Nope, nothin' too bad. Pangil got some mortar splinters in one paw, and I think Tommy's got a headache from when a dud grenade fell an' clonked him on the helmet."

His friend whistled lowly. "So how many lottery tickets did he buy?"

Samuel was indeed paid a visit by his latter companion later that day, both of them overjoyed to see him awake and moving. Pangil's paw was wrapped in gauze, but that didn't stop the energetic hare from reenacting his experience from the fight. He carried on for almost an hour, stopping only after some of the nurses reprimanded him for being too noisy.

"I will tell ye one thing, laddie," he said quietly, a contented smile spreading across his features. "Know that blasted ferret I told you about, the one with the green peepers?"

Samuel nodded slowly, recalling the last time he had seen Kamir, slipping away into the forest. He had known something was amiss, but at the time he was uncertain as to what he should do. Now he dreaded that he had returned and wreaked horrible casualties on their troops. "I remember him, why?"

Pangil crossed his arms and held his head at a roguish angle, grinning. "Got the blighter, you'll be jolly well happy to know. That rascally little nuisance won't be harmin' anybeast for the rest of our days."

He was stunned at the news. "Got him? What...where? How?"

The gallant hare immediately launched into his story, waving his paws about and not sparing them any details of his actions. "Well, we had just cleared out a bally awful section of apartments, and the ol' Cap'n ordered me and a spotter up to the top floor to set up a crow's nest, if you'll pardon the nautical term. We had a rare wonderful view of the riverbank and decided to stick around for a bit. Got a few blighters tryin' to sneak about like the vermin they are, but not too much action else wise.

"The lad helpin' me to pick targets looked across the river and saw a big ol' clock tower. Sharp eyes, that'n. Poor fellow caught the bad end of a grenade later that night, kickin' in a few doors. Shame, bally shame." He continued on as though it wasn't of great consequence.

"So, he kept shifting his peepers back to that clock, sayin' that something wasn't right about it, wot wot? I decided to shut his bloody mouth and checked it with the scope on old Glenda, and guess what my eyes did see?" He said, grinning widely. "That bloody cad of a ferret, standin' pretty as can be on an outside ladder! Just starting to get his weapon up when I put one inta his ugly face! We'll not be having trouble from the likes of that one any more, no sah!"

They spent another hour swapping stories before a nurse ushered them out, insisting that Samuel had to have his rest. As they were almost pushed out of the door, somebeast crowded inside past them. Samuel had barely enough time to recognize her face before Penny was hugging him tightly and weeping, holding him as though she was afraid he might slip away.

"What?" He coughed as Penny murmured something into his shoulder, still crying.

She pulled away far enough to wipe her eyes and speak with a cracked, but beautiful voice. "I was so scared, Samuel! I was terrified; I didn't...if you had..." She couldn't find the words, preferring to bury her face into his chest. The tears still streamed from her eyes, but they were ones of joy, not sorrow. "Thank you for coming back, Samuel. Thank you."

He rested his head on top of hers, wrapping an arm about her shoulders. "I'm sorry," He whispered. "I shouldn't have put you through this."

She looked up far enough to kiss him deeply. "I'm just glad you're home."

"Me too," He said, feeling the need for sleep beginning to envelop his mind. "Me too."

One week went by, then two, and finally three. Samuel's world became a whirlwind of doctors, medications, and the ever-present scratching of pens on clipboards showing his progress. It was pitifully boring at times; he wasn't allowed to exert himself or even stand up on his own without the aid of another beast. Penny and Joseph stopped by as often as they could to keep him company, but both had duties to attend to and thusly left Samuel alone for most of the day.

Joseph, Pangil, and Tommy became his most oft-used means of gathering information of what was going on with the rest of the campaign. Since the Battle of Valoar, as it had been named, most of the Skyjumpers occupying Redwall were delegated to light patrols and sentry duty in the surrounding area, where a growing number of anti-vermin forces had been setting up camp. By then the fires in the city had begun to burn themselves out and the refugees, along with three full companies of infantry support, had moved into the derelict metropolis in an attempt to recover, rebuild, and reoccupy the rubble-littered streets and destroyed homes.

"Rumor's got it that we're movin' north after things get settled here," Joseph told him one day, after he had returned from a lengthy patrol around the nearby forest. "The Rats didn't expect us to actually win, so they're turnin' tail and runnin' for it. Probably regroupin' their forces is what Sagepaw said. So now we gotta chase the buggers down an' teach 'em a lesson, eh?"

Indeed, their squad leader had visited the infirmary more than once. After the battle, however, he had been promoted to officer: A Second Lieutenant, and transferred into a "Goddamned fogey post" as he put his new job of coordinating troop transport for the Mossflower region.

Samuel had been able to see the burning anger in his former commander's eyes as he sat in a chair next to the bed, telling Samuel what had happened. "Rockeye did it," He almost spat the words. "Had me moved out three days after the fight, said that I deserved a 'reprieve from the stress of frontline operations.' Bastard just doesn't want me somewhere that might give me a chance to put a bullet in his malformed brain, like he deserves."

Rockeye had even paid his own visit to the infirmary, shaking paws with the wounded and thanking them for the sacrifices they made during the battle. Most beasts seemed honored by the gesture, saluting smartly and vowing that they'd fight for him any day. Samuel just pretended to be asleep the whole time, burrowing his head into the pillow so no one could see the hot tears of anger and disgust rolling down his cheeks.

Ever so slowly, Samuel was allowed more and more freedoms. He was even allowed to walk about the Abbey, so long as Penny or somebeast else was there to help him. Things finally came to a head one day when after one such excursion to Great Hall, he returned to his room to see Joseph, Pangil, Tommy, and a smattering of other beasts standing in a circle around his bed. Without a word, they separated to show him a set of pressed fatigues and polished boots, along with clean web gear and a new helmet.

"Welcome back, mate!" Joseph said over the cheers and clapping of his squad mates. Trying to blink away the tears starting to fleck in the corners of his eyes, Samuel hastily changed back into the uniform. There was a rousing cry of approval from both his fellow Skyjumpers, as well as many of the infirmary workers and assistants. He found it impossible to dim the smile on his face, even more so after Penny wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him firmly.

"Now that's the soldier I remember," She said, grinning as he blushed slightly.

The doctors and medics insisted that he take things easy, and for a short time Samuel complied with their stringent rules. But eventually, the morning roll call and mission schedule became too tempting for him to bear. Six days after regaining his jump boots, Samuel fell into line along with ten other beasts for a morning patrol around Mossflower woods.

Since Sagepaw's transfer, Tommy had been leading the squad of twenty or so beasts. They assembled on the Abbey courtyard, which was now full of tents set up for the constant flow of refugees streaming out of the towns and villages.

Samuel let the rifle hang off his shoulder as Tommy accounted for each beast present. "Alameta!"

"Present."

"Rawtail!"

"'ere, sarge!"

"Melton!"

He raised a paw above his head. "Here."

Tommy looked up from the clipboard in his paws. "Nice to have you back, Sam. Think you can still shoot that thing?" He asked, nodding to the slung weapon.

"Just as good as ever," Samuel replied, patting the stock affectionately.

"Alright, then. You keep your eyes open and head up, you hear me? I don't want to bring you back to Penny in a box. And that goes for everybeast else here!" He raised his voice to speak to the rest of the small crowd. "I don't want to see any slackers out there. Keep your shit together, hooah?"

A rousing chorus of "Hooah, sergeant!" broke the quiet. Tommy nodded once and scowled at the sky overhead, which was starting to darken somewhat. "We'll make it a quick one, looks like some rain coming in. Move out!"

Samuel marched alongside Joseph, speaking in hushed tones. "What's up with him?"

The otter readjusted a shoulder strap absentmindedly. "Who, Tommy? Whaddya mean, what's up with 'im?"

"I don't know. He doesn't seem like the Tommy I saw that night we dropped in. He's sure a hell of a lot less cheery."

"So you'd be cheery after what we've done so far, huh?"

Samuel winced slightly. "Yeah, I get the point."

He thought the conversation was over, but suddenly Joseph sighed and glanced about to make sure nobeast was listening in. "It was in Valoar," He murmured, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice and failing miserably. "He was leadin' a squad through a big ol' warehouse when they got hit. Rats heard 'em and opened up from the outside, just started sprayin' fire through the walls." Joseph shook his head. "Only three of 'em got outta there. Tommy ain't been the same since, 's like he's always worried sumthin' going to happen, even though we've secured this place six times over. There ain't naught here but the trees, now."

What the otter said turned out to be true, as Samuel came to realize. Mossflower woods was already starting to reclaim her rightful lands. Trees had begun to sprout large, bulbous growths where bullets had struck the trunks. Leaves now formed a blanket over the undoubtedly countless bullet casings and debris left on the forest floor by the previous weeks' fights.

But reminders still persisted. An abandoned machine gun, left against a stump to rust and rot away. There were still large, empty patches of grass and shrubbery where a fire had started and spread. Samuel flinched slightly after he rounded a turn in the path and spotted a decaying corpse, held together by bone and scraps of flesh, being feasted upon by the insects of the earth.

"He tried to run," Joseph said in a quiet voice, staring at the body as if it would come to life and attack them. "We captured 'im a while back, but he got loose and tried to get away. Sagepaw put 'im down."

Samuel was shocked, but not because of what his friend had said. He was stunned because the incident did nothing to invoke any sort of emotion or feeling on part of the slain beast. He remembered their first days in Mossflower country and the fox he killed in the village; it seemed like ages, almost centuries ago. At first, that memory tortured and disturbed him beyond measure. Now, all he could think about was how lucky they'd been to have survived that particular skirmish.

The rain had just begun to spit from the cloud like icy needles when they marched back into Redwall. The entire squad promptly made its way into Great Hall for a lunch of warm leek and potato stew, along with warm coffee and tea, the latter of which was consumed on the most part by Pangil. The hare was growing exceedingly restless at the Abbey, not content to sit idly and "rot me jolly arse off, wot wot" as he had put it.

As usual, Samuel spent lunch and most of that afternoon with Penny. They had grown closer than ever, not wanting to be out of each other's reach for more time than necessary. Most of their discussions always turned towards their childhoods, Samuel had noticed. He learned more about her first years of living in Mossflower before the vermin invasion. Her parents had died when she was just an infant, leaving her in Redwall's care. She had been given the option of leaving and fleeing for the safety of Salamandastron, but Penny had refused, knowing that the skills of a healer would be desperately needed in the near future.

"Sister Amanda taught me everything she knew," Penny said, smiling at the memory long since past. "She was the nicest old mouse you would ever meet. She even managed to calm down the dibbuns when it was time for their shots." She laughed. "I still don't know how she did it."

Samuel noticed the faraway look in Penny's eyes and decided not to enquire as to what happened to Sister Amanda. There was enough strife in their world already; he didn't see it necessary to bring up scars of the past.

Life became a never-ending routine of patrols, roll-call, the occasional mail delivery, and constant rumors of another deployment. There was no solid information pertaining to the latter, always just whispers of possible locations and missions. Some said that the Rats were moving north, and therefore the Skyjumpers would hunt them down and finish them off once and for all. Or they would move to the east, others stated, to aid in the recovery and reconstruction operations. A brazen, optimistic few said that they were nearing the end of the war, and they would simply sit at Redwall until things died down.

Samuel tried asking Sagepaw, but all he got was a shrug and "I'm not the operations sergeant, mate. I don't get told a damn thing." The answer was similar for most of the command cadre.

The Skyjumpers could take a small bit of relief in that Rockeye was no longer commanding at Redwall. They hadn't received any official notice, only rumors that the badger had received a promotion and was moving up in the ranks. Their new captain was a rough-and-tumble otter from the infantry, or "legs" as the Skyjumpers referred to them as. But none of them held any resentment against the new leader. They had all heard the stories of his assaults on the beaches north of Mossflower, where each inch of sand had been paid for dearly. On the night after Rockeye left, a ceremony and dinner were had on behalf of the Captain. Nobeast was quite sure who he was, only that he had proven to be a ready and able leader.

Samuel, dressed in his class 'A' uniform, led Penny by the arm into Great Hall. She wore a simple yet stunning dress of blue and lilac, with a rose held in the paw not clasped around Samuel's arm. She smoothed out the front of his lapel, smiling. "You look wonderful."

He tried to hide the redness growing on his cheeks and returned the grin. "Not as wonderful as you. All of the Skyjumpers have to wear the same thing; it gets boring after a while."

Great Hall had been exquisitely decorated for the ceremony. Ribbons of yellow and blue hung from the ceiling and walls, while each table held a stunning arrangement of flowers and candles. Everybeast was dressed in their finest clothing, and even most of the Redwallers who had chosen to attend sacrificed their normal habits for more regal dress. The sounds of conversation and laughter were abundant, but subdued enough not to be a nuisance.

Samuel and Penny were starting to look for their placeholders at the table when Sagepaw appeared out of the crowd and noticed them. Saluting sharply, Samuel greeted his former squad leader. "Evening, sir."

Sagepaw actually grimaced slightly, returning the salute. "Oh for the love of all things holy, Sammy, don't call me 'sir'. I still work for a living, you know." He shook Penny's paw and kissed it lightly. "Good evening, Penny. You look stunning, as I'm sure this rogue has already told you, eh?" He grinned, nodding to Samuel.

She smiled in return. "Good evening, Lieutenant. And thank you, I've caught Samuel drooling more than once already."

They both laughed, while Samuel blushed and shifted his weight from paw to paw. After a few more minutes of polite conversation, Samuel got down to business. "Have you heard anything more on who this new Captain's supposed to be?"

Sagepaw shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. The only thing I've heard is that he used to be a Sky-jumper, and then got transferred into a ground unit just before the invasion. One of those special companies, supposed to be all high-speed. Ah, there's the cognac! Excuse me, please."

As the reluctant Lieutenant hurried off in the direction of a passing trolley, Samuel and Penny managed to find their places among the crowd of beasts starting to settle down for the observance. The conversation began to die down as a mouse stepped onto the stage built at the head of Great Hall. He tapped the end of a microphone set on a podium, deemed it working, and cleared his throat before speaking. "Ladies and Gentlebeasts, I would like to thank you for coming this evening to celebrate the nomination of our new operational commander in the Mossflower region. Without further ado, I give you Colonel Weatherby!"

It took Samuel a few moments before the realization hit him like a thunderbolt. As everybeast stood and applauded politely, his eyes locked onto the otter making his way onto the stage. It was almost exactly like his first day of training; the otter's sharp, calculating eyes and graying fur neatly trimmed and combed. There was not a wrinkle to be found on his meticulously pressed and cleaned uniform, and his lapel almost glistened with the amount of medals adorning it. Weatherby exchanged salutes with the mouse before turning to the podium. The otter took a moment to look out over the crowd, seeming to individually lock eyes with each of them.

"Thank you all," He said; the sandpaper-like voice just as Samuel remembered it from his first day of training, "It is a privilege and honor to be standing before all of you today. Both Sky-jumpers," He had to pause for a moment at the sudden burst of applause. "And every other creature involved in the current conflict will echo my happiness at being able to see this day come. As I'm sure all of you aware, there are many of our comrades who are not able to share in today's celebrations.

"Before going on, I want to say one thing; we have not forgotten our fallen. Though their bodies might no longer be among the living, their fighting spirits are in each and every one of you. It is for them that we continue this war."

He paused as a thunderous cheer rose up from among the crowd. After things settled down somewhat, Weatherby cleared his throat and went on. "I will not make false promises, and it is for that reason I must be honest with every soldier present: I cannot guarantee you will all come home alive. I would give my own life if I could ensure you that degree of safety, but unfortunately I cannot. But you have my solemn vow: I will do my best to be a trustworthy and well-respected commander among your ranks."

Weatherby's speech lasted only a few minutes longer. As Samuel had remembered, everything that left the otter's mouth was short, direct, but poignant none the less. He left the stage amid another round of deafening approval. The crowd was dismissed soon thereafter, Samuel taking Penny by the arm and strolling out of Great Hall. She looked up at him as they began to climb the stairs towards the dormitories. "He seems like an able enough commander, at least to me he did."

Samuel nodded. "He was acting commander at the base where the sky-jumpers first trained. I'd walk into the fires of hellgates if he ordered me to."


	21. Chapter 21 Good news, bad news

**Yes, it's back! Far too many months later, DoF returns, ableit I'll admit not in a spectacular fashion. This is more of a bridge chapter, just so I don't have an excuse to keep you wonderful folks waiting another...year, eight months, whatever it was. Anywho, enjoy! I SWEAR the next updates will be much sooner than this one was, and will provide what I hope to be a suitable finale to this story. **

**R&R!**

* * *

Days came and went, each more routine than the last. Despite his gruff manner and hard-charging reputation, Weatherby proved to be an invaluable asset to the troops stationed at Redwall and the surrounding regions. Never one to overreact or make decisions without first considering all the options, the combat-hardened otter took the time necessary to make sure every beast under his command understood a mission's goals, potential hazards, and the reasoning behind the move. And while some creatures complained of his exacting standards in behavior, attire, and proper military etiquette, none dared speak out against him. Not out of fear, but respect. For in the span of two weeks, Colonel Weatherby had turned Redwall from a loose collection of Skyjumper, infantry, and mechanized units into a cohesive regiment under his command. As the war raged around them, the Colonel began to rebuild the shattered remains of Mossflower.

Keeping the new-found peace, however, meant spending hundreds of hours patrolling the forests, villages, and fields surrounding the Abbey. No matter the weather, time of day, or number of hung-over Skyjumpers who had only gone to bed hours before after a weekend's pass.

Samuel groaned as reveille was sounded over the loudspeakers, trying to muffle the incessant clanging that roused them from sleep. But after a few moments, as he did every morning, Samuel rolled off the mattress and slipped on his uniform, boots, and web gear. All around him, beasts were climbing out of their bunks and doing the same. Except for Joseph, of course. The otter had spent the evening exercising his right to exceed the now defunct two-drink maximum that had been in place under Rockeye's command, and was paying for it dearly as Samuel tapped him with a boot.

"Come on, mate. The longer you stay in there, the harder it'll be to get up." The squirrel said, trying to resist the urge to gloat. He hadn't gone to bed completely sober himself, but not to the extent that Joseph had. The minor headache he had was nothing compared to what his friend was experiencing.

Joseph's reply was to growl and toss the nearest object in his direction, which turned out to be his helmet. Samuel dodged the swing and shrugged. "Have it your way, then." And without another word, he planted his foot against the cot's flimsy frame and pushed, sending Joseph sprawling to the floor, trailing curses the whole way.

"Quit your belly-aching, you know the drill. Everybeast reports to the morning briefing, no matter how drunk they were last night. Even if it was a combination of lager and tequila."

Joseph glared at him with red-rimmed eyes and began to dress in his rumpled fatigues. "_That's _what that swill was? Those lyin' shrews told me it was just brandy. I'll have to pay 'em a visit 'afore we leave and remind 'em why ye don't try and cheat in a drinkin' contest."

Ignoring his companion's whining, Samuel made his way down to the Great Hall where most of the Sky-jumpers were starting to gather in preparation for their daily briefing. They were given status reports on enemy activity, results of their previous mission, and news from home. The snippets from newspapers and radio broadcasts always gave Samuel a pang of homesickness, thinking of the fields of grain and barley that were soon to be cut and the coming baseball season. He could still remember huddled close to the radio with his father, listening with baited breath as their hometown heroes, the Oakville Eagles. He would cheer and yell along with the announcer at the distinctive _crack _of a good hit, grinning as the ball soared out into the stands.

"Alright, ya horrible lot, gather 'round." Weatherby's executive officer, a stoutly-built mouse with a crooked nose and scarred face, summoned the crowd of about fifty beasts over to a large table, where he waited for them to settle down. "Sergeant pepper", as the mouse was known on account of the many scars that had turned patches of his fur gray, began with his customary roll call before glancing down at the typed notes in his paw. "First off, I'm sure ya'll are too hung over to really pay attention, but I'd appreciate it if you'd try not an' puke all over the floors." This brought a chuckle from the beasts not clutching their aching heads or bellies. "Alright, there ain't much news from home this week, mostly jus' somethin' about a new plan to get more war bonds. But here's what ya'll need to listen up fer: We're goin' back into Valoar today, goin' to do some more work with the civillians."

This brought a collective groan from everybeast present. After taking the city, many of the Sky-jumpers had volunteered to help secure and start to rebuild the city. However, this was taken by their commanders as a sign that they _all _wanted to do the same. So not long after Samuel had recovered, he was back in the city where he had nearly been killed, helping clear rubble and search the wreckage for bodies. The civillians, many of them rats, stoats, or the like, tried to help as much as possible, but they were still trying to recover from the fierce fighting that had so nearly destroyed their city.

"Hold yer britches, boys. This one's different. We're takin' some of the Abbey's medical staff and nurses with us this time, command says they're gettin' reports of injured beasts needin' help. So you're on protection detail today. Keep the medics safe and watch out fer trouble. We've gotten reports of some light enemy recon on the city's northern side, but the tanks scared 'em off pretty quick. Just be on the lookout, hooah?"

"Hooah!" Samuel tried to match the enthusiasm of his friends, but he didn't like the idea of going into a town just so recently fought for. The Rats were well known for giving up a position, and then counter-attacking shortly thereafter, catching the still-advancing troops off guard. It was a tactic that could inflict massive damage, and Samuel knew that the enemy would be tempted by such an approach after losing such a key location.

The briefing was over a few minutes later, and Samuel headed upstairs to begin preparing his gear. As he passed the infirmary, however, something caught his attention. The nurses, dressed in their distinctive white hats and shirts, were preparing their supplies for the coming mission. A few Army medics were there as well, offering advice and borrowing whatever the Abbey's infirmary could spare for their own kits. But Samuel stopped dead in his tracks just outside the door, watching as Penny helped a mouse secure the web gear across his shoulders before turning back to her own bag.

Samuel waited until she had seen him standing outside before walking in, weaving between nurses. "Hey, Samuel!" She grinned and wrapped him in a hug, which he returned with a weak smile. "I can't wait to go out today, it's our chance to finally do some real good."

He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Penny, do you...are you sure you want to come? We need medical staff at the Abbey, after all, and..."

She cut him off with a sharp look. "What are you saying, Samuel? That I won't be able to handle myself?"

He held his paws up. "No, not at all. I'm just...I don't think it's safe out there quite yet. We've gotten reports of enemy scouts in the area, and I don't want you to be there if something happens. I'd never be able to live with myself if you were hurt."

Her expression softened, and she smiled gently, kissing him on the cheek. "Don't worry, Samuel, everything will be fine. Besides, I've got my guardian angel right here," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him again, deeply this time, much to his surprise and enjoyment. "You won't let anything happen, I'm sure of that."

He chuckled and wrapped her in his arms one last time before turning for the door. "I promise, I won't."

Joseph, after presumably having a very impolite conversation with the shrews he had been drinking with the previous night, was back in the dormitory when Samuel walked in. The otter was spit-cleaning the Browning rifle he had taken to carrying, whistling as he slid the bolt carrier back into place. "So, I'm takin' it that Penny's comin' along, eh?"

"As much as I don't want her to, yes." Samuel picked up his rifle and began to fill his web gear with ammunition, grenades, and other assorted gear. "I don't know if it's safe yet, especially with those enemy recon troops about."

"Bah, we'll just kick 'em on their tails if they get too close. Teach the bastards not t' get in our way."

Samuel smirked as he slid a pistol into the holster at his belt. Most Sky-jumpers, especially enlisted types, didn't carry a sidearm, but he always had the nagging feeling at the back of his head that one day, he would need it dearly. So he accepted the extra two pounds of gun and ammunition for the little peace of mind it offered. "Just try not to pass out on the march there, alright? I don't need your hangover antics making the rest of us look bad."

The troops designated for the mission, about eighty all-told along with the thirty or so medical staff, gathered outside on the Abbey's main lawn while the officers made final checks. Penny saw Samuel and waved, a smile lighting up her face. He returned the gesture, unaware of the small grin spreading across his features. Joseph, however, took immediate notice and tried to hold in his guffaws. "Bloody hellgates, mate, but by the looks of it ye've just seen the second comin'."

He received a solid punch to the shoulder for that, which ended with a laughing otter and Samuel wringing his throbbing paw.

A sharp whistle brought their attentions to the center of the crowd, where the officer in charge, none other than Colonel Weatherby himself, signaled with a sharp wave. "Everybeast, move out!"

Tommy, shouting above the din, gathered his own soldiers. "My squad, on me! Hurry it up, all of you!"

They formed a ragged column, with the medical staff and other civilians in the center as to offer them more protection. Samuel saw Penny and waved again, which she returned with a smile and a blown kiss. The mid-morning air was cool, still lingering with the dawn's chill. They set out at a slower pace than their usual march, on account of the extra beasts and gear in the company. Their boots and paws thumped against the hard-packed earth of the Abbey's path which lead down into Mossflower, and eventually all the way to Valoar.

They marched for an hour or so and ignored the far-off, intermittent bursts of machine gun fire. All of the Sky-jumpers knew that there were always small skirmishes going on throughout the region, mostly just a patrol running into a small pocket of resistance or a soldier on sentry duty deterring some enemy scouts from coming any further. The Redwallers, however, were unused to the random bouts of distant gunfire and would always flinch and dive for cover whenever the distinct pops reached their ears from miles away.

"Come on out, it's nothing to worry about." Samuel helped a shaking vole out of the nearby ditch where he had crouched. "It can't trouble us."

"Are ye sure?" The vole asked, eyes shifting nervously.

Pangil, who had insisted on tagging along, suddenly appeared over Samuel's shoulder. "Absolutely, chap! Why, these bloody rats could be dropping mortars in the next field over and I wouldn't be troubled. Bloody poor shots they are, eh wot?"

The vole looked even more terrified than before, but eventually came out of hiding and rejoined the column. Samuel gave the hare a sidelong glance as they moved on. "Poor shots, huh? Then what the hell happened in the city that night?"

Pangil visibly winced, remembering the sudden barrage of disturbingly accurate artillery fire that had nearly cost Samuel his life. "Ah, yes, there was that, I s'pose. Let's chalk it up to dumb luck, wot wot! I don't suppose the blighters could do it a second time if they bloody well tried."

Samuel crossed himself, despite the denomination on his dog-tag. "For God's sake, don't jinx us like that! The next thing you know we'll be taking shell fire from battleships."

But the rest of the march was uneventful, and they arrived on the outskirts of the city by early afternoon. A pallor of smoke still hung over the ruined city, and even from a distance the horrendous damage was obvious. Buildings had been caved in, streets littered with debris and potholes where shells had exploded, and the ever-present scent of smoke, cordite, and gunpowder was still sharp in the air. Samuel's mind went back to that fight, remembering the ear-shattering clamor of mortars detonating nearby and always, the chatter of gunfire that was the soundtrack to a hellish night.

Their arrival was greeted as usual; most beasts just stared at them, with the same expressions of indifference and suffering as before. Valoar had once been primarily inhabited by woodlanders, but after the vermin took over that balance quickly shifted and now hundreds of rat, stoat, fox, and weasel eyes watched the column make their way through the ruined streets. There were a few that grinned and cheered, running up to the Sky-jumpers to shake their paws and offer words of thanks. Samuel hadn't realized it at first, but it soon became clear that these creatures had been treated horribly by the enemy during their time as occupiers, stripping them of their freedom, even going so far as to ration each family's allowance of food. They had been under the iron boot of an oppressor, and now they were finally freed.

And yet, there were always the few that could say nothing, do nothing, but whose hatred for Samuel and his comrades was obvious. They spat whenever the Sky-jumpers passed by, muttering curses under their breath and staring at them with the same eyes Samuel had seen in so many of his enemies.

Penny had come to walk beside Samuel as they made their way into the city and now gazed with shock at what had been done to the place. "I never knew it looked this bad," She said quietly, looking around at the shattered structures and piles of smoking debris. "How did anyone survive this?"

He shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine."

The army had set up a medical treatment area, food hand-out truck, and other necessities in the town square, which was bustling with activity. Many of the town's residents had been injured in the massive firefight, and hadn't or couldn't venture out of their homes to seek help. But now, after things had begun to quiet down and the news of help reached them, they flocked to the large plaza. It was a scene of barely-organized chaos: Beasts running to and fro between trucks, jostling for place among the rapidly growing lines while soldiers did their best to keep the situation under control.

Tommy assembled his squad of twelve near a small fountain that had been partially demolished in the battle, leaving chunks of stone strewn about the area. The mouse made sure everybeast was listening before raising his voice above the dull roar. "Listen up, all of you! We're heading out into the housing developments to look for any that might need help. Most of the buildings are still standing, but make sure you're not walking into something that's about to fall onto your heads. I'm not losing anyone on a cakewalk like this, understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

Tommy nodded once. "Good. One last thing: There's been rumors of Rats hiding in some of the houses, stragglers that didn't catch up with the main retreat. If you run into one, try and capture him. But if the bastard has a weapon, I want you to splatter his goddamned brains against the wall. Right, let's move out!"

Penny, who had volunteered along with four other nurses to tag along with their squad on the off-chance they discovered any injured beasts, looked at Tommy with a concerned expression as the mouse organized his squad. "He wasn't like that before, was he?"

Samuel shook his head sadly. "No, I never saw him act like this. Not until after the battle." He sighed, hefting his rifle and letting Penny walk beside him. "I guess losing that many guys just...well, it's not something I'd want to have to deal with. I don't think he'll ever really be the same."

They wandered the ruined streets, navigating between shell-holes and piles of debris from collapsed buildings. Most of the buildings were deserted, though once in a while Samuel would spot a beast digging through the wreckage, searching for anything that might be useful. Most of them were vermin, though few did more than scowl or spit onto the dusty ground. Some would come forward, begging for food or water, but Tommy would just shove them away with a disgruntled look and tell them to go the plaza and wait in line like everybeast else.

As they marched east on the wrecked streets towards the river, the houses became less and less damaged. Most of the fighting here had been late in the battle, when ammunition was running low and most of the combat was short, bitter firefights between buildings. Tommy selected out six beasts, Samuel and Penny among them. "Sammy, I want you to sweep the left side of the street, I'll take the right. Knock on the doors, see if anybeast is home."

Samuel gave him a thumbs-up and waved a paw to the half-dozen beasts in his group. "You heard him, let's get this done. Move in groups of two, call out if you see anything suspicious."

The first house he approached was mostly undamaged, save for a few stray bullet-holes through the windows. Samuel pounded on the door with one paw, listening closely for anybeast that might be inside. When nothing but silence met his ears, he moved off of the porch and went on, Penny right beside him.

He cleared four more homes, only coming across an aging ferret who insisted that he wasn't in need of help and waved genially as Samuel bid his farewell. By the time he reached the end of the street, he was convinced that there wasn't anything amiss in this part of the town. He approached the door, slinging the rifle over his shoulders in order to free both paws. The dry wood thumped as he knocked on the door, expecting to hear the usual empty silence. Instead, his ears perked up as a hushed voice break the empty air.

"They're 'ere! Come on, we gotta go! Run fer it!"

Samuel was unsure of what to do. Something was telling him to kick down the flimsy wooden door and rush inside, but he forced himself to stay calm. Rifle still slung, he raised a paw to knock again. "Allied Skyjumpers, is anybeast-"

The quiet morning was shattered with a flurry of shots, at least three heavy rifle bullets boring through the door to shower Samuel with a spray of wood splinters. Two of those bullets would have killed him, except that he was now flat on his back, falling instinctively to the ground to avoid the first that had nearly clipped his helmet. He landed with a thud, ears ringing with a distant clangor.

_Get up, _something was yelling at him; maybe it was a someone? Samuel couldn't tell, only that he had to do whatever this voice was telling him to do. He pushed himself off the ground with one paw, reaching for the pistol at his belt with the other. To him, everything was oddly calm. Even as he heard what sounded like another shot from inside the house, his mind was systematically examining the situation and deciding what needed to be done. The fear was still there, tucked away in a secluded corner of his mind, but at the moment there was only one thing to be done. He was dimly aware that Penny was screaming and dashing for the nearest hard cover, but his brain simply checked it off as another necessity that he no longer had to concern himself with. Instead, he could focus on the task at hand.

The weak pine door buckled under a swift kick, falling from its hinges into a filthy, dusty living area. The only light came from the half-shuttered windows, where swirls of dust danced in the stagnant air. Trash and debris covered the floor, including three brass shells, still smoking gently. There were also obvious paw-prints in the filthy carpet, leading to a doorway on the left side of the wall facing Samuel. He could hear what sounded like shouts and the clatter of something heavy on a wooden floor, and that was all the excuse he needed. Advancing with his weapon gripped tightly in both paws, he stepped calmly and quickly into the next room.

During his many weeks of training as a sky-jumper, Samuel had learned about the dangers of urban fighting. One of these perils was known as the "fatal funnel", or the frame of a doorway that served to highlight a target entering the room. Instructors had ranted and yelled for hours, telling them that the only way to survive in a close-quarters fight was to get out of the funnel, as quickly as possible. Now, Samuel's training was taking over. He cleared the doorway in a flash, bringing up his handgun as something shifted in the corner of the room. It was somebeast trying in vain to climb out of a small window, getting caught on some of the boards that had presumably been used to barricade it. The beast yelled something out the window, suddenly turning to face Samuel who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and was now training a pistol on the enemy.

The vermin made a very poor decision. Half-in, half-out of the window, the ferret reached inside his coat pocket, fumbling for something hidden inside. Samuel didn't hesitate; he pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. The forty-five caliber slugs slammed into the beast's torso, making him jerk with each impact. Blood flecked onto the nearby cabinets as he collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath before growing still. Samuel advanced slowly, fighting the tunnel vision that was threatening to take over as adrenaline coursed through his veins like battery acid. He tapped the ferret with a boot, getting no response. He took a moment to check the window, where the dirty paw-prints made it obvious that at least one other vermin had escaped into a nearby alley. After taking a few moments to make sure the closets and one other room in the home was empty, he walked out the front door to meet a trembling Penny. She hugged him tightly, unaware of his own half-hearted embrace. "Samuel, are you alright? Please tell me you aren't hurt!"

He was holstering his pistol as a squad of Sky-jumpers rounded the corner at a dead sprint, Tommy being among them. "I'm fine," he said shortly. Penny was startled not only at the dull tone of his voice, but the utter lack of emotion in his normally cheery eyes, now turned the color of sea ice at midnight. He ignored her as Tommy approached, motioning for three of his squad to secure the house. "You hurt?"

"Negative, sergeant. I took fire at the doorway, then went inside and cleared it out. We've got one Rat down in the kitchen, and at least one more that escaped out the back. I didn't spot any tripwires or pressure plates inside, so we should be alright to lock it down."

Tommy nodded once. "Good job. We'll be finished clearing out the housing sector pretty soon, you can head back to the plaza. Penny, are you alright?"

She managed a few shaky nods. "Yes, I'm...I'm fine, just a little shaken. I was so..."

Tommy whistled sharply as his squad-members left the house. "Pack it up, we're done here! Rally back at the plaza, we're done for today."

Penny walked with Samuel as the squad moved back to the still-bustling plaza. She kept glancing at him repeatedly, aware that whatever had driven Samuel with such calmness before was starting to wear off. Both of his paws were shaking slightly, and he was flinching at every loud noise. When she touched his arm, he jerked away suddenly before realizing who it was. "Samuel, are you sure you're alright?" She asked quietly.

He sighed and nodded. "I think so, I just need a second."

Joseph came to meet them at the square, a concerned look on his face, but Penny stopped him as Samuel continued on. "He's not hurt, Joseph. There was...something happened at one of the houses. Just let him be for a few minutes."

The otter stared at his friend for a short while before shaking his head. "I hope yore right, miss. It ain't in the nature of a beast like Sammy t' be killin' like he is."

Penny tried to keep her voice level. "No, it's not. That's why I'm worried."

Sergeant Pangil, as usual, was irritated that he had missed out on that day's only fighting. "Bloody sky-jumpers get all the bloody luck, with their bloody patrols and leavin' poor bloody me to sit around on my bloody arse and do absolutely bloody nothin'!"

But even he recognized that Samuel needed his space, if only for a few minutes on the march back to the abbey. It was one matter to kill a beast with a rifle, at distances where the enemy wasn't much more than a dull silhouette or patch of color among the trees. It was entirely another to be in close combat, where the difference between life and death was half a second and four pounds of pressure on a trigger. To see your enemy die no more than a few paces away was a matter in which Pangil was well-versed, and he understood what a beast like Samuel would be going through.

"He'll be a bally mess for a few days." The hare was eating with Joseph, Tommy, and some of the Salamandastron soldiers the next day. He slurped down an entire bowl of soup, using half a loaf of bread to wipe up the remains. "And I wouldn't talk about it for a few weeks or so. He'll be replayin' it in his head like some sort o' news reel, wonderin' if he could've done something different. Ye might see him acting a bit down in the dumps, probably for a few weeks at least, but he'll come around, wot wot!"

Joseph took a worried glance over at his friend, who was staring into a plate of salad as if it were a television set. "Are ye sure? I mean, Samuel ain't exactly the killin' type. I know he's done it 'afore, but that was different. He had the drop on that vermin, bastard never had a chance."

Pangil spoke in a nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone. "Killing is killing, if you don't mind me puttin' it so, laddie buck. By jove, the first time I shot a Rat, I was six hundred meters out and dropped the cad when he was taking a piss in the woods! I was a bloody wreck, I can tell you that. At least for a month or so. But believe me, he'll get better. Eventually he'll realize that there wasn't a bloody thing wrong with that shot, that anybeast in his position would've done the same thing."

Tommy lit a cigarette, ignoring the disapproving looks some of the Redwallers gave him. Many of the windows were still broken or missing entirely, so they had no excuse not to. "Sure, but try and tell that to him. Samuel's a stalwart guy, and I swear he's made of pure luck and chutzpa, but he's still taking it harder than most beasts I've seen. Keep an eye on him, would you Joseph?"

The otter tipped his helmet slightly. "Will do, sarge. I'll make sure he don't do anythin' too stupid."

The distinctive parade-ground voice of a Long Patrol sergeant rolled across the hall. "Officah on deck, atten-shun!"

Over a hundred sets of boots thundered on the hard stone floor as a single beast appeared in the doorway. Colonel Weatherby was dressed in the same faded and crumpled fatigues as his soldiers, and from the red rings around his eyes, it was clear that the otter had been up for many an hour. But his voice was sharp and clear as he addressed the gathered sky-jumpers. "At ease, all of you. Well, I suppose it's time for me to be up-front with you: I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

An anonymous voice from the crowd answered. "Bad news, sir! Makes the good that much better."

There were a few chuckles, even as Weatherby produced a manila folder and flipped it open, scanning some of the papers enclosed within. "I've got a request from the Allied commanders, which makes it an order, to deploy a battalion of Sky-jumpers to the Kurda Mountain pass by the end of the month. Apparently we've been doing our jobs well enough; the Rats are retreating north, pulling out all through Mossflower."

A rousing cheer seemed to shake the walls. Weatherby couldn't stop a small grin from sweeping across his face as he looked back down at the paper in paw. "And here's the better news; We're slotted for three months up there, and then it'll be mandatory leave for everybeast here. I hope your bags are packed, boys. You're goin' home soon."


End file.
